Love the Way You Lie
by Mahone-chic-89
Summary: NHL WASHINGTON CAPITALS: John Carlson is living the high-life but his obsession with partying, drinking and his awful temper threaten to destroy the only truly meaningful thing in his life...Anna-Marie. FULL SUMMARY INSIDE!
1. Summary

**Not the best summary in the world but I don't want to give too much away…read the lyrics to the song or look up the music video on youtube to get a better idea about what this is gonna end up being about : ) Enjoy!**

John Carlson was living the high-life. He had won the junior Olympics for the United States and had been recruited by the NHL team, the Washington Capitals all in one year. Now he was making a ton of money and living the single life in downtown Washington D.C. When he's not practicing at Kettler or playing in a game, Carlson is hitting the town, the clubs and the bars with his teammates, living it up. Dubbed "Captain America" by the fans, Carlson basks in the fame and fortune heading his way and it looks like this high life is only just beginning. Only a rookie and already he's breaking records, scoring tons of goals and making beautiful plays that only guys like Ovechkin and Backstrom can duplicate.

His life seems perfect to the outside world, but to his teammates and those closest to him, Carlson's life is anything but perfect. His obsession with partying becomes an addiction and he soon finds himself hooked on alcohol and the rush from picking up different women every night. His fast temper and frequent fights with teammates during practices steadily increases until it reaches an intolerable level.

As Carlson begins to spiral out of control he meets a young woman by the name of Anna-Marie down in Georgetown. The young, cute brunette works at Georgetown Cupcakes, a hangout spot for several of the Capitals players, including Carlson. John Carlson begins to make excuses to visit the bakery more and more just to see this woman who has made a strangely strong impression on him. Unable to get her off his mind, Carlson is determined to make her his. But when he does, things only get worse. His temper and old habits rear their ugly heads as he and Anna-Marie grow closer, threatening to destroy everything for both of them...

_Just gonna stand there and watch me burn  
>But that's alright because I like the way it hurts<br>Just gonna stand there and hear me cry  
>But that's alright because I love the way you lie<br>I love the way you lie_

_I can't tell you what it really is  
>I can only tell you what it feels like<br>And right now it's a steel knife in my windpipe  
>I can't breathe but I still fight while I can fight<br>As long as the wrong feels right it's like I'm in flight  
>High off of love, drunk from my hate,<br>It's like I'm huffing paint and I love it the more I suffer, I suffocate  
>And right before I'm about to drown, she resuscitates me<br>She fucking hates me and I love it.  
>Wait! Where you going?<br>"I'm leaving you"  
>No you ain't. Come back we're running right back.<br>Here we go again  
>It's so insane cause when it's going good, it's going great<br>I'm __Superman__ with the wind at his back, she's Lois Lane  
>But when it's bad it's awful, I feel so ashamed I snapped<br>Who's that dude? I don't even know his name  
>I laid hands on her, I'll never stoop so low again<br>I guess I don't know my own strength_

_Just gonna stand there and watch me burn  
>But that's alright because I like the way it hurts<br>Just gonna stand there and hear me cry  
>But that's alright because I love the way you lie<br>I love the way you lie  
>I love the way you lie<em>

_You ever love somebody so much you can barely breathe  
>When you're with 'em<br>You meet and neither one of you even know what hit 'em  
>Got that warm fuzzy feeling<br>Yeah, them chills you used to get 'em  
>Now you're getting fucking sick of looking at 'em<br>You swore you'd never hit 'em; never do nothing to hurt 'em  
>Now you're in each other's face spewing venom in your words when you spit them<br>You push, pull each other's hair, scratch, claw, hit 'em  
>Throw 'em down, pin 'em<br>So lost in the moments when you're in them  
>It's the rage that took over it controls you both<br>So they say you're best to go your separate ways  
>Guess if they don't know you 'cause today that was yesterday<br>Yesterday is over, it's a different day  
>Sound like broken records playing over but you promised her<br>Next time you show restraint  
>You don't get another chance<br>Life is no __Nintendo game__  
>But you lied again<br>Now you get to watch her leave out the window  
>Guess that's why they call it window pane<em>

_Just gonna stand there and watch me burn  
>But that's alright because I like the way it hurts<br>Just gonna stand there and hear me cry  
>But that's alright because I love the way you lie<br>I love the way you lie  
>I love the way you lie<em>

_Now I know we said things, did things that we didn't mean  
>And we fall back into the same patterns, same routine<br>But your temper's just as bad as mine is  
>You're the same as me<br>But when it comes to love you're just as blinded  
>Baby, please come back<br>It wasn't you, baby it was me  
>Maybe our relationship isn't as crazy as it seems<br>Maybe that's what happens when a tornado meets a volcano  
>All I know is I love you too much to walk away though<br>Come inside, pick up your bags off the sidewalk  
>Don't you hear sincerity in my voice when I talk<br>I told you this is my fault  
>Look me in the eyeball<br>Next time I'm pissed, I'll aim my fist at the drywall  
>Next time. There won't be no next time<br>I apologize even though I know its lies  
>I'm tired of the games I just want her back<br>I know I'm a liar  
>If she ever tries to fucking leave again<br>Im'a tie her to the bed and set this house on fire  
>I'm just gonna<em>

_Just gonna stand there and watch me burn  
>But that's alright because I like the way it hurts<br>Just gonna stand there and hear me cry  
>But that's alright because I love the way you lie<br>I love the way you lie  
>I love the way you lie<em>


	2. Struck By You

"This is gonna be epic," said a very excited-looking John Carlson as he practically skipped down the streets of Washington D.C.

Mike Green rolled his eyes in exasperation at the younger Capitals' defenseman, "I cannot believe you dragged me into this," he grumbled irritably, trying to pull his hood over his fohawk while scowling at the rain.

John sneered, "Dude your 'hawk is fine, man…it's just sprinkling out, stop being such a girl. And besides, what else would you have done tonight? Hang out with that stick in the mud, Brooks Laich? Or sit and watch chic-flicks with your boyfriend, Nicklas?"

Mike glared daggers at Carlson as he stomped irritably through the puddles on the sidewalk, "Brooks isn't a stick in the mud…well he used to not be…it's his stupid new girlfriend," seethed Mike, narrowing his eyes as he thought about Brooks' new female. She took over every free moment his once-best-friend had so they hadn't hung out with one another in months. Needless to say, Mike was a tad bitter about the whole situation, "And for your information, Nicky and I do more than watch movies."

John rolled his eyes, "Whatever, Green…you used to be so chill, man, come on...loosen up! It's time to get your ass back on the scene!"

Mike gave Carlson a doubtful look, "By hitting the largest, most popular club in D.C. and watching you troll for women?"

"You realize you can pick up a girl too, right?" asked Carlson with a laugh as he gave Mike a playful punch.

"Sorry…I like being disease-free," said Mike as he playfully pushed Carlson back, "You have fun picking up STD's and god-knows what else."

"God you sound like Brooks!" said Carlson, his eyes flashing in amusement, knowing the reaction that would incite from Mike.

Since Brooks' girlfriend took over his life, Mike had been angry, sad, lonely and bitter and even the mention of his ex-best friend usually pissed him off. Carlson had been on thin ice so far that day with all the Brooks jokes and comments but this was just too far.

"Don't you dare compare me to that asshole," snapped Mike, "I'm nothing like him."

Carlson sighed in frustration and looked up at the sky, silently praying that Mike could keep his drama to a minimum tonight. Maybe he should have invited Alex Semin to come with him…the man didn't speak much English and all he wanted to do was hook up with chicks and get drunk like he did. But the good side of Carlson, however small that side was, told him to pick Mike. The dude had been down in the dumps for so long…he needed to get out and have a good time.

"You're right, you're not," John conceded after awhile, "Brooks would have lectured me for like an hour about clubbing then would have run off to the gym and then back to his apartment so he could be in bed by eight."

That elicited a small grin of amusement from Mike. Carlson laughed and shoved Mike playfully, "Come on…forget about him and let's go get wasted, what do you say?"

"I say you're an ass…but yeah getting wasted sounds pretty damn good right about now," said Mike with a sigh as he looked up and saw a huge flashing neon sign, "Alright…let's hit it!"

…

Anna-Marie wiped the sweat from her brow as she finished cleaning up the kitchen at the end of another long day in Georgetown. She was one of the head bakers of Georgetown Cupcakes and absolutely loved her job. She hadn't gone to college…school wasn't really her thing…and instead decided to learn how to cook. She had a natural talent, especially for baking, and right after high school sent in her resume to several prestigious bakeries. Georgetown Cupcakes picked her up right away and for the past few months Anna-Marie found her niche in the world. The only thing missing in her life…was a man.

Although she had always been the independent type, Anna-Marie had always longed for romance. She wanted to fall desperately in love with a man who would provide for her and protect her, but being a hopeless romantic at heart had its downsides. She'd dated a series of guys who'd used her and left her or asked for one-night stands. When it came to finding a man who would stick around for more than a few weeks or months, Anna-Marie was hopeless.

She sighed as she wiped down the front counter and glanced up at the clock. It was already nearing midnight…an hour longer than she was normally in the store. She grabbed the keys, picked up the last trash bag, and headed out the door. No more dwelling on her lonely life…it was time to go home and get some sleep. Maybe tomorrow a hottie would walk into the shop and flirt with her. She sneered at her own thoughts as she climbed into her little Civic. Yeah right…like some hot, rich, sexy, romantic man would come waltzing into Georgetown Cup Cakes and sweep her off her feet…right…

…

Carlson moaned in complaint the next morning as sunlight filtered in through his blinds. The light sent a piercing pain that seemed to encompass his whole head and trickled down to his stomach, making him feel nauseous. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember what had happened last night.

Obviously he had gotten hammered…he felt like shit that part was pretty clear. He remembered convincing Green to go downtown with him…then they went to that new club…after that things got a little fuzzy. He remembered heading to the bar right away and ordering drinks for him and Mike. After a while he began trolling around the club, sliding in and out between gyrating bodies moving to the pulsating beat, as he searched for his latest conquest. He found her, swaying to the beat all by herself. Her gorgeous, long blonde hair and killer body practically screamed his name. He remembered sidling up to her, his eyes roaming over her body as his hands lightly touched her hips. She looked up at him, her clear blue eyes shining with excitement as she moved against him. After that, all he could remember was buying her drinks and dancing against her all night.

Carlson rolled over and nearly jumped out of the bed in surprise. The sexy blonde girl was in his bed. His mind whirled painfully as he tried to remember what happened the rest of the night. Ah, that's right…he had brought her home. He smiled a little to himself as he thought about what had happened shortly after that. She was a good life choice…a _very _good life choice.

Suddenly, loud knocking at his door jolted Carlson from his little fantasy. He cursed whoever was pounding on the door as he scrambled out of bed, grabbing his boxers laying on the floor and pulled them on as he hopped toward the door.

"What the fuck are you doing?" hissed Carlson as he rubbed his temples and glared up at Mike Green.

"Dude, come on," said Mike in annoyance, "Did you really get _that_ wasted last night?"

Carlson smirked at that, "What's the point of going out if you don't get wasted?"

Mike rolled his eyes, "Whatever, come on, get your clothes on. Nicky, Karl and Mattie want to hit up Georgetown Cup Cakes."

"Wow you really can't get anymore gay can you?" asked Carlson as he shook his head in bewilderment, "Why the hell do you want to go there?"

Mike sneered, "Because the cup cakes are good, asshole. And it's better than lying in bed and looking like shit all day. Hurry up…we're just gonna hang out in Georgetown all day since Boudreau gave us the day off."

"Fine," grumbled Carlson, "Let me kick the chick out and I'll meet you at your car, okay?"

"You brought another one home?" asked Mike, giving Carlson a disapproving look, "Really, John? Come on."

"Fuck off…I'll be out soon."

Mike just sneered as he turned and walked back out of the apartment complex to wait for John in his white Lamborghini.

…

"Anyone wanna take bets on whether or not Carlson's gonna be trashed when he gets here?" asked Mathieu Perreault sarcastically as he tapped his foot impatiently on the floor. They had all been waiting for Mike and John for half an hour already and were growing impatient.

Karl Alzner shook his head, "That kid's an alchy," he said with a frown, "I'm dead serious…no one parties that hard that often if they're not addicted to alcohol."

"Or sex," added Backstrom in annoyance, "The kid hooks up with more girls than everyone on our team combined."

"I'm just worried about him," said Karl quietly as he leaned back in his seat, "He's gonna get himself in serious trouble if he's not careful."

"That's just it…he's not," said Perreault in annoyance, "He's an idiot. He wasn't like this when we played for Hershey…back then all he cared about was scoring goals and making it to the NHL, now all he wants to do is get wasted. It sucks…we used to be best friends."

"Between him and Brooks going MIA on Mike I'm about sick of this shit," said Backstrom with a sneer.

Alzner nodded in agreement just as the door to Georgetown Cup Cakes opened and Mike Green and John Carlson walked in.

"It's about time," grumbled Perreault as he studied John's pale face and the dark circles under his eyes, "Guess it takes awhile to get up when you're dead drunk."

"Fuck you," growled Carlson as he shot a glare in Perreault's direction.

"Easy you two," warned Mike as he put a hand up to keep Carlson at bay, "Let's just relax and enjoy life for a bit, alright?"

Carlson shrugged, "Whatever…I'm gonna go order a cupcake," he muttered as he walked away from the group.

"How bad was he?" asked Alzner as he gave Mike a concerned look.

Mike frowned, "Bad…I lost track of him last night. I tried to stay close to him but he literally disappeared. Found him this morning at his place with some girl in his bed."

"Surprise, surprise," muttered Backstrom as he shook his head in disgust.

While the four friends discussed their concerns for the young defenseman, John Carlson sauntered coolly over to the counter and began to browse through the cupcake selection. He mentally cursed Green and his other teammates for bringing him here. This was so gay…he'd rather be in bed with that hot blonde, whatever her name was. He glanced up to look at the menu and froze when he saw a beautiful brunette washing some dishes in the sink.

Anna-Marie heard feet shuffling behind her and turned around. She about had a heart attack when she saw a handsome, young man standing there…and he was staring at _her_. She wiped her hands on the apron tied around her waist and cleared her throat as she took a step toward the counter.

"Um, hello," she said nervously, "Can I get you something?"

"Huh? Oh, um, yeah uh…yeah…I'll…I'll take…um," stammered Carlson, suddenly having a hard time talking.

Anna-Marie smirked at his obvious anxiety and covered for him, "How about a chocolate ganache? If you like chocolate, trust me…it's the best."

Carlson nodded numbly, "Uh, yeah, yeah that'd…that'd be good, thank you."

Anna-Marie flashed him a dazzling smile and Carlson felt his insides turn to mush. Was he still intoxicated? Why the hell was this girl making his heart flutter and causing him to lose the ability to speak? No girl ever flustered him…he was the epitome of cool, collected and cocky, arrogant American hockey player who could get whoever he wanted whenever he wanted them…so why was this girl making him act like a college freshman who had never had a girl before? What the hell?

Anna-Marie gave him his cupcake and Carlson handed her his card. She gave him another smile and wished him a good day as she turned around to head into the back section of the bakery. Carlson stood their dumbly for another moment before he wandered back over to the table. Backstrom stood up the second Carlson returned and went to go order the cupcakes for the rest of the guys. Alzner and Green were in a deep conversation about the Flyers' offensive line and the best way that they, the defensemen, could stop them. Carlson, on the other hand, was too busy staring at Anna-Marie as she walked back out to help Backstrom get his cupcakes.

"So what do you think about that, John?" prompted Green.

"Huh? About what?" asked John as he glanced briefly at Mike.

Mike sighed in annoyance, "Did you not hear a word of what we said?"

"Um, no…no sorry," said Carlson as he turned to look over at Anna-Marie again.

"Oh my god," muttered Perreault, "Really, John, really? Didn't you just have a girl in bed with you? Come on, man."

John ignored Perreault and kept staring at the amazingly beautiful, heart-stopping girl at the counter. As he took a bite of his cupcake, John Carlson knew that this would definitely not be the last time he'd come to Georgetown Cup Cakes…

…

Please Review!


	3. Suicides and Cupcakes

"I swear to God if he's drunk or high I'm gonna go off," growled a very-irritable Mathieu Perreault as he skated down the Capitals practice rink at the Kettler Capital Iceplex in Arlington, Virginia.

Alzner shook his head and frowned as he glanced over at Carlson. John looked very distracted and he seemed to be having trouble keeping his balance on the ice. He was missing even the softest of passes and sent so many pucks so wide of the net that Neuvirth had stopped even trying to deflect them with his stick. The coaches were frowning in annoyance as they watched Carlson skate by.

"Why the hell is he so fucking stupid?" grumbled Perreault as he sent a saucer pass over to Alzner, "Seriously…I'm so sick of this shit. I want my best friend back!"

"Get in the game, Johnnie," said Mike Green as he skated past the younger defenseman, "Coaches are looking pissed over there…don't wanna have to skate laps all day do you?"

Carlson muttered something under his breath about that as he rubbed his bloodshot eyes.

"John…are you on something?" hissed Mike as he took in Carlson's disheveled appearance, "Cause you look like shit, man. What's going on?"

Carlson shot Mike a quick glare, "No, I'm fine…I just was out late last night."

"Again?" asked Mike as he glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was paying them any attention, "Dude you went out the night before…and the night before that! Your body is gonna give out on you man. Lay off the booze and the women for awhile would you?"

Carlson just skated off without replying to Mike, rolling his eyes in annoyance as he picked up a puck and raced down the ice, trying to prove to Mike that he was fine. All he did was have a few drinks and hook up with some chicks…what was so weird or wrong about that? He was a freakin' NHL superstar for crying out loud! He could do whatever the hell he wanted.

"That kid is so messed up," said Brooks Laich as he skated over to Mike.

Mike frowned at Brooks, "Yeah…poor Mathieu has been without his best friend for awhile…that sucks. I would know," he added pointedly as he glanced away from Brooks.

Brooks sighed at that, "Mike, come on, don't be like that."

"Like what?" snapped Mike, "Like a guy who lost his best friend to some girl? Sorry if I'm a little pissed, but I miss having a best friend you know. I mean, I know you don't care…obviously you don't cause if you did we wouldn't be having this conversation…you wouldn't have let some female ruin our friendship, but clearly I don't mean that much to you so it's whatever."

"Really?" said Brooks with a harsh laugh, "What the fuck, Mike?"

"Stop," said Backstrom as he skated in-between the two ex-best friends, his blue eyes cold and hard as he glared at Brooks Laich, "Get back to practice…we don't need any more drama on this team than there already is."

"I agree," said a frustrated-looking Mike Knuble, "Come on, boys let's finish this practice up, alright? Preferably without anyone dropping their gloves."

Troy Brouwer skated past Mike Knuble and sneered, "Kids these days…so dramatic."

Knuble muttered in agreement as he followed Brouwer to the other side of the rink. John Erskine and Jeff Halpern joined them and the four veterans began muttering to each other about the youngsters and their drama.

"The old guys on our team remind me of gossiping girls," said Alex Ovechkin as he and Alex Semin skated in-between the two groups, "So much drama!"

Alex Semin nodded in agreement as he cast an amused glance over at the older players, "We work on more drills?"

"Yeah!" said Ovechkin enthusiastically in his thick Russian accent, "You get Brooksie, Greenie and Carlson…we can do three on two's!"

Brooks and Mike groaned out loud as Semin and Ovechkin waved them over. The last thing those two wanted was to practice with one another. When Carlson was waved over, Mike just knew that practice couldn't get much worse than this. It would be a freaking miracle if someone didn't drop their gloves or lose their temper.

Mathieu Perreault and Karl Alzner skated over to the veterans and watched as the rest of the team worked on three on two's. Carlson snatched up the puck and began working up ice with Ovechkin and Semin while Brooks and Mike practiced their defensive skills. Mike covered Ovechkin while Brooks tried to get in the shooting lane between Semin and Carlson. Carlson moved quickly and had an open channel, but as he went to take the shot, he lost his balance and fell hard onto the ice.

Brooks was quick to snatch up the puck and began moving to the other side of the rink where Vokoun sat waiting in the opposite net. He sent a quick wrister over to Mike just as Semin tried to check him into the boards. Mike snatched up the puck and sent a slapper right past Vokoun's glove hand. Carlson cursed loudly as Green whirled around, hands up in victory as Brooks raced over to congratulate him. For a moment the two old friends celebrated their little victory before they returned to the rest of the team.

"Does this surprise anyone?" sneered Perreault, "I mean really…what did you expect from the alcoholic?"

"Shut the fuck up!" shouted Carlson, suddenly losing his temper, "Just shut up, Perreault!"

"Why?" argued Mathieu as he skated toward Carlson, his eyes flashing in defiance, "You know it's true! You're a freaking addict, John and it's affecting your game! How much more obvious can it get? You look like you haven't slept in a week and I'm sure your eyes aren't bloodshot cause you got something in them."

"It's none of your damn business!" seethed John as he stabbed his finger into Perreault's chest.

"The hell it isn't!" shouted Perreault as he got in Carlson's face, "You're my best friend, remember? Or has that drunken haze you're always in made you forget about me too?"

John lunged at Mathieu, knocking him off his feet, and the two teammates hit the ice, fists flying. Instantly, Alzner threw himself into the fray, trying to drag Carlson off of Perreault. Shultz, one of Carlson's supporters, pushed his shoulder into Alzner, throwing him off of Carlson. This infuriated Backstrom who took of his gloves and launched himself and the much-larger Jeff Shultz. Mike Green leapt into the battle in an effort to defend his new best friend, Nicklas Backstrom while Chimera, Erskine and Knuble raced in to try and separate everyone.

Soon the entire team was involved in a massive battle at center ice. Vokoun and Neuvirth took off their masks and gave each other confused looks as they skirted the massive battle. The coaches started screaming and ordering everyone to stop. For about five minutes the Kettler Iceplex had descended into utter chaos.

"That's it!" screamed Boudreau, well-beyond ticked off at his team, "All of you! On the line NOW! Suicides until I say stop!"

The team started cursing as they slowly separated themselves from one another. Perreault shot Carlson an accusing glare through his one good eye. The other eye was already swollen shut and his lip was bleeding from one of Carlson's punches. Carlson had a bloody nose and his cheek was already turning colors. The rest of the team had similar wounds as they lined up to begin skating suicides. The entire team shot glares at Carlson, clearly blaming him for the uproar and the impending misery they were all about to endure. This was going to the worst practice they'd had in a very, very long time…

…

"I cannot believe you want to go to Georgetown Cup Cakes after that practice," seethed a still-infuriated Mike Green as he drove himself and Carlson to Georgetown in his white Lamborghini, "I shouldn't be doing this…I shouldn't be nice to you. I should just do what everyone else on the team did and tell you to fuck off."

"But you didn't" said Carlson as he smirked and pretended to cuddle up to Mike, "Because you love me."

Mike shrugged Carlson off of him, "No, because I feel sorry for you. You're a wreck, John and you know it. Stop thinking we're best friends cause we're not. I just don't want you to completely descend into the pit of hell…although you're doing a wonderful job of buying a one way ticket there. You do realize that everyone hates you now right?"

Carlson sneered at that and shrugged, "What makes you think I care?"

Mike gave Carlson a shocked look, "Do you really not care what your friends think about all this? Do you want to lose everyone, John? Cause right now it looks like I'm the only one who still cares. Perreault can't even look at you anymore and you were his best friend…hell I couldn't even get Nicky to come with us. I'm all you got right now kid so don't screw this up or you really will be all alone."

Carlson didn't say anything to that as they pulled into Georgetown Cup Cakes.

"Seriously, why did you want to come here?" asked Mike as they got out of the car.

Carlson shrugged, "I dunno…they have good cupcakes," he lied as he felt his heart skip a beat at just the thought of seeing that gorgeous brunette again.

"How the hell can you want a cupcake after we all puked our guts out skating?" asked Mike, wincing at the very thought of anything being on his stomach.

Carlson shrugged again as he turned on his arrogant charm and entered the shop, "Guess I'm just tougher than you are."

Mike sneered at that and rolled his eyes, "Yeah right…go get your damn cupcake, I'll get a table."

Carlson smirked as he turned and headed toward the counter. Sure enough, the hot brunette was up there cleaning the counter as he sauntered arrogantly up to her.

"Hey there," he crooned, fully in control of himself. He'd been mentally preparing himself for seeing her again and even though she made his heart pound furiously in his chest, he had this situation completely under his control. He was John Carlson, after all…Captain America.

Anna-Marie felt her breath catch in her throat when she saw John Carlson. God that boy was beautiful…and something about that cocky little smile and the arrogant gleam in his eyes just made him that much more appealing. She couldn't believe he'd come back…and so soon after the last time he'd been here.

"Hello again," she said as she flashed him a perfect smile, "Glad you came back."

"Oh yeah?" asked Carlson suggestively, "And why's that?"

Anna-Marie felt herself blush furiously at his forwardness, "Um…well clearly you enjoyed your last cupcake if you came back for more."

Carlson snickered to himself as he thought about all the wonderfully inappropriate comebacks he could have to that, "Yeah…yeah I liked what I saw last time that's for sure."

Anna-Marie swallowed nervously, "Oh…did you?" she asked, trying to flirt back without being overly-obvious. She found herself insanely attracted to this boy and it was making it hard for her to think clearly.

"Yeah, I did," he said as he leaned over the counter and looked into her eyes, smirking when he noticed her blush deepen, "And I'd like to see more…when do you get off work?"

Anna-Marie felt like she was about to pass out. There was no way in hell this hot, sexy young man just asked her out…no way. Things like this just didn't happen to her. This was like something out of a movie. Sure he was cocky and arrogant and way too sure of himself, but…he was gorgeous. She'd be stupid to pass this up. She cleared her throat and prayed her voice sounded normal when she talked.

"I get off today at ten," she said with a smile, "What did you have in mind?"

"How bout I swing by and pick you up then…take you out for drinks?" he asked, never looking away from her chocolate-brown eyes.

"Um, yeah…yeah that sounds like fun," she managed, trying to not appear as flustered as she felt.

"Good," said Carlson as he flashed her a quick smile, "I'll see you at ten…but until then, how about another one of those chocolate ganache cupcakes of yours? They're delicious."

Anna-Marie smiled as she handed him his cupcake and rang up his order. When he took his credit card back from her he let his hand brush against hers for a second longer, sending shivers up her arm at his touch.

"See you tonight," said Carlson as he gave her a wink and walked back over to where Mike was waiting, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You're unbelievable you know that?" asked Mike as Carlson sat down, a cocky grin plastered all over his face, "You dragged me all the way over here just so you could pick up another one of your girls?"

Carlson just shrugged as he took a bite of his cupcake, "It is what it is, Mikey…it is what it is."

…

Please Review!


	4. Dates and Drama

Anna-Marie was a nervous wreck as she waited for John Carlson to pick her up. She checked her hair and makeup in the mirror for what seemed like the millionth time and glanced up at the clock. It was almost ten…he would be there any minute now. The thought made her heart skip a beat. She had no idea who this gorgeous man was…all she knew was that he was the hottest guy she'd talked to in a long time. She silently prayed he wasn't some douche bag like the other guys she'd dated before. The last thing she wanted was another messy, dramatic relationship.

Just then she heard the sound of a car pulling up and saw bright headlights shining through the front windows of Georgetown Cup Cakes. She smiled nervously when she recognized John Carlson as he climbed out of his jeep and sauntered coolly in through the front door. He gave her an approving head to toe glance as he walked over toward her.

"You look beautiful," he crooned as he placed a hand on her hip and glanced at her from head to toe again, "I love the dress."

Anna-Marie felt herself blush under his touch and scrutinizing stare. She breathed a sigh of relief at his approval of her outfit. She managed to slip out from work for a few minutes to run home and grab a change of clothes during her lunch break and picked up the silvery dress from her closet. It was one of the few more risqué clothing items she owned and based on the vibe she got from this John Carlson guy, he wasn't going to take her to some conservative restaurant for drinks.

"Thank you," she said, trying to control the trembling in her voice, "I…I wasn't sure where we were going, but…"

"Trust me," said Carlson as he gave her a wink, "This is perfect. I'm gonna take you to my favorite club downtown…I think you'll like it."

Anna-Marie smiled at that as she let Carlson lead her out of the shop and toward his jeep. It had been a long time since she partied hard but tonight seemed like the perfect time to start again…

…

John Carlson felt like he was on top of the world as he helped Anna-Marie climb into his jeep. Damn she looked good in that silver, sparkly dress that hugged her body in all the right places. Tonight was definitely going to be fun, he'd make sure of that. He climbed into the driver's seat and glanced over at her as they pulled out of the parking lot.

"So…is this the first time you've been on a date with a hockey player?" he asked her suggestively as he flashed a cocky smile.

Anna-Marie gave Carlson a surprised look, "Oh? You're a hockey player?"

Carlson's arrogant smile fell instantly at that. Didn't she know who he was?

"Uh…yeah, I um, I play for the Washington Capitals…you may have heard of me?" he prompted, giving her a hopeful glance.

Anna-Marie's eyes opened wide at that. She'd definitely heard of the NHL team but she didn't know much about hockey. She couldn't believe the man she was going out with was an NHL player! Wait until everyone at the shop heard about this tomorrow!

"No, I'm sorry," apologized Anna-Marie as she glanced at him, "I…I don't follow hockey, but I have heard of the team before."

Carlson had to grit his teeth to keep his jaw from dropping to the floorboards. The girl had no clue who he was…all she knew was that there was a hockey team called the Washington Capitals. What the hell…? He couldn't remember a time when he'd picked up a girl who didn't know who he was. Even in high school he was a sensation and everyone knew who John Carlson was.

"Oh, um…yeah it's okay," he said, fumbling with his words, "Uh, yeah I'm John Carlson…I play defense for the Capitals. I won the junior Olympics for the USA team a couple years ago."

Anna-Marie's eyes widened at that, "Wow! So you must be really good then?"

Carlson smirked confidently at that, "Yeah…they call me Captain America."

Anna-Marie bit her lower lip to keep from laughing. The guy seemed rather proud of his nickname and she found it amusing.

"That's really cool," she said as they pulled up toward a building with a large, neon sign, "The Capitals…that's the team with Ovechkin right? The Russian?"

Carlson had to mentally tell himself not to roll his eyes at that. Of course…she had no idea who he is but she knows Ovechkin. Everyone does. Stupid Russians…

"Uh, yeah he's our captain," said Carlson, glancing away, "You ready?"

Anna-Marie nodded as Carlson raced around the jeep to open her door for her. He took her hand as she climbed out of the jeep and Carlson stared at her rocking body in that gorgeous dress. His confidence returned immediately as he thought about the night that lay ahead for both of them. It would make up for her not knowing who he was…because after tonight…he'd make sure she knew who he was…

…

Anna-Marie rolled over in bed and glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. She frowned as she noticed that the digits on the clock were red, not green. Suddenly everything came rushing back to her…the club…the vodka…Carlson grinding against her…then taking her back…everything got fuzzy but she remembered…holy shit she and Carlson had sex.

Anna-Marie shot up out of bed and glanced down. John Carlson's eyes flew open in shock as he looked up at her, startled by her sudden movement. They had been tangled up together in the bed amongst the sheets and pillows and her sudden panic jolted Carlson from his deep sleep.

"What…what's going on?" he mumbled, his head pounding as he tried to recall how many shots he'd had last night.

"Oh my god," muttered Anna-Marie as she realized she was naked under the sheet, "We…we didn't…"

"Oh, baby we did," said Carlson with a cocky grin, "And you're damn good if I don't say so…"

Carlson scooted over and tried to cuddle with Anna-Marie, but she jerked away and grabbed the sheet as she clambered off the bed, wrapping it around her quickly as she stared at Carlson in shock.

"I shouldn't have…I…"

Carlson frowned at her reaction and gave her a scrutinizing stare, "Got a boyfriend or something?"

"No…no I don't," stammered Anna-Marie as she ran a hand through her dark, tangled hair.

"Then what's the problem?" asked Carlson giving her a shit-eating grin, "Get back in bed…you didn't seem too upset about what we were doing last night."

Anna-Marie squeezed her eyes shut at that, "That's because I was wasted, John," she said angrily, "And…and if I wasn't I wouldn't have done…done that."

"Sure about that?" asked Carlson seductively, "Because the way you were dancing on me before you started drinking said otherwise."

"I just…I wasn't myself last night," said Anna-Marie, her blue eyes hazy and confused, "I…I gotta go."

"Where?" asked Carlson as he raised an eyebrow and calmly watched her scramble for her clothes, "I drove you, remember?"

"I can call a cab," said Anna-Marie as she put her shirt on, "I gotta go to work anyway…I, um, I'll see you later I guess."

Carlson frowned as he watched her practically run out of his room and out of the apartment. He cursed as he lay back down on the bed. He was really hoping to get off this morning but clearly that wasn't going to happen. Since when did a girl ever run out of his bed? He'd never known a girl to be in a hurry to leave…and he'd paid special attention to her too. What the hell was this shit? Was he losing his edge? He groaned at that and closed his eyes. Whatever…he had a couple more hours to sober up before practice. He'd stop by Georgetown tomorrow and see Anna-Marie again…give her plenty of time to cool off and start missing him. He smiled confidently at that thought as he yawned and stretched. Yep…he'd soon have Anna-Marie eating out of the palm of his hand soon enough…

…

"Oh shocker," said Mathieu Perreault in a loud, annoyed voice, "John Carlson's late for practice…again!"

"Mattie, lay off," warned Alzner as he skated past Perreault, "Don't start shit again okay? I think I speak for the whole team when I say none of us want to skate suicides again."

Mike growled low in his throat at that, "Please…please don't do anything stupid, Mathieu."

Perreault gave both of his friends disgusted looks, "Oh please, like I'm the reason things haven't been right around here. We all know which two players need to pull their heads outta their asses so don't even play like I'm the problem. Just cause you all are too scared to say it like it is doesn't mean I am."

"That's not it, Mathieu," said Knuble as he skated up to the small group, "We just don't want any additional drama, okay? I get things are screwed up now, but that's just how it is."

Perreault sneered at that, "Well I'm not satisfied without 'how it is.' Things need to change and they need to change soon and if none of you will do anything about it then I will!"

"What's going on guys?" asked Brooks Laich as he skated over to the group.

Mike Green glanced away sharply as Brooks approached, "I'm gonna see if Nicky wants to warm up with me," he said quietly, "See you guys later."

Alzner and Knuble exchanged worried and sad looks as they watched Mike skate off. Brooks frowned at his once-best-friend's reaction and glanced around the rest of the group.

"What's up with him?" he asked, looking confused.

"Seriously?" asked Perreault, losing his patience, "Are you really asking _us_ that question, Laich?"

"Perreault," snapped Knuble sharply as he gave Mathieu a harsh, warning glare.

Perreault gritted his teeth and sneered as he turned sharply and skated away, muttering something about his entire team getting shot to hell because of their stupidity.

Before Brooks could ask any more questions, John Carlson raced out of the locker room and stumbled onto the ice.

Alzner groaned, "Oh no…he's wasted again."

"No, just hung over," answered Knuble, "His eyes aren't glassy enough to be wasted."

"That kid's liver is gonna fall out of his body," muttered Brooks as he watched Carlson blink his eyes rapidly in the glaring light reflecting from the fresh sheet of ice.

Carlson shook his head, trying to force himself to ignore the usual pounding headache. He wished his body would just accept the alcohol and get over it. You'd think by now he wouldn't have these hangover issues, but whatever…work hard, play harder, that was his new motto. He glanced around and saw Mike and Nicklas stretching and whispering to one another…Brooks was mumbling something to Knuble and Alzner…Ovechkin and Semin were leaning on each other on the other side of the rink, whispering…and Perreault was skating around by himself, slapping pucks into an empty net and looking pissed at the world. Awesome…so nothing had changed. Same old drama shit. Great.

"Yo, man where you been?" asked Marcus Johansson as he skated quickly up to Carlson and sprayed him with ice as he stopped just short of slamming into his teammate.

"Fuck you," growled Carlson as he wiped the ice off his gear, "I was out last night."

"No shit Sherlock," laughed MoJo as he slapped Carlson on the shoulder, "I'm just teasing you, lighten up."

"Sorry," muttered Carlson, "Guess I'm used to these shitbums criticizing my every move."

"Yeah, well I'm your friend and I wouldn't do that to you," said MoJo, "What you do on your off-time is your business."

"Thank god," said Carlson as he put an arm around MoJo's shoulders, "Finally someone who understands."

MoJo laughed as he playfully shoved Carlson away from him. The two teammates commenced in a fake fight and wrestled each other onto the ice, laughing and screaming loudly the whole time.

Perreault glanced over his shoulder and watched the spectacle, sneering openly at the sight. Great…Carlson replaced him already. And all just because a few weeks ago he'd told Carlson he was worried about his new habits. Awesome…that was just great.

Mike Green frowned when he saw the pain and anger in Perreault's eyes. He skated over to him and put a hand on his shoulder, "Hey man…you alright?"

"No," grumbled Perreault as he glanced away, "My best friend replaced me with MoJo…just because I don't approve of him being an alcoholic. What the hell is with that? Sorry for caring about you, John you asshole," snarled Perreault as he shot another puck down the ice.

"I know how you feel," sighed Mike as he glanced over to where Brooks was talking excitedly with Mike Knuble and John Erskine, "Brooks hasn't wanted anything to do with me since he started dating that girl…now all he does is hang out with her. He doesn't talk to any of the single guys hardly at all anymore ether…just the married ones. It's beyond lame."

Perreault sneered, "Our best friends suck."

Mike smirked at that, "Yeah…yeah they do. But we still care about them…if we didn't we wouldn't be this pissed would we?"

Perreault muttered something unintelligible as Mike patted him on the shoulder, "Alright I'll leave you alone, Mattie…just know you got friends on the team still, alright? You're welcome to hang out with me, Nicky and Alzy anytime."

"Thanks, Mike," said Perreault as he gave Mike a sad smile, "I appreciate it."

"Anytime, buddy," said Mike as he skated back over to Nicklas Backstrom and commenced whispering to him about what all was going on.

Perreault shook his head as he glanced around the rink. The drama and tension in the building was so tangible it was ridiculous. He wondered how long it would take before another explosion erupted…one that could rock the team so badly that they may never fully recover from...

…

Please Review!


	5. Shifting Alliances

"No way in hell," growled Perreault angrily as he glared daggers at Mike Green.

It had been two days since Carlson showed up to practice hung over…and two days since the Capitals had lost to the Red Wings. The game was atrocious and Boudreau had been beyond furious with his team. The last thing that Perreault wanted to do was hang out with one of the guys who was the cause of the huge loss the other night.

"Mathieu, I know you're still upset…"

"_Upset?_" asked Perreault with a short laugh, "Oh I'm much more than _upset_ Mike! Why the hell would I want to go to Georgetown Cup Cakes with that asshole?"

"Because he asked us to go," said Mike, trying to get Perreault to calm down before Carlson heard them on the other side of the locker room, "He asked me if I'd go with him and I told him I'd see if anyone else wanted to join and he seemed excited. Maybe he wants to patch things up?"

Perreault sneered openly at that, "Oh yeah right, Carlson suddenly turned into an angel overnight…and I'm Alexander Fucking Ovechkin."

Mike rolled his eyes in exasperation, "Mathieu, please," he begged, "Just…give him the benefit of the doubt, alright?"

Perreault narrowed his eyes at Mike before he spoke again, "Fine…I'll give him the 'benefit of the doubt' if you invite Brooks to join us."

Mike winced visibly at that challenge. He stared at Perreault for a long moment, resenting the cocky, victorious look on the young center's face.

"Fine," he seethed after a moment.

Perreault blinked in surprise and Mike realized that the kid hadn't expected him to give in…he'd expected him to back out. Ha! Well Mike would show him…as much as he didn't want to…his stubborn streak made him agree to Perreault's terms.

"Whatever," grumbled Perreault as he headed for the showers.

Mike sighed and glanced over to where Brooks was talking excitedly with Mike Knuble, laughing it up and having a great old time. Wonderful…this was gonna be so awkward. He walked over to them and glanced away nervously when he noticed that Knuble stopped talking as Mike drew closer.

"Hey," said Brooks in surprise as he gave Mike a nervous glance, "Um…what's up?"

Mike swallowed nervously before he replied, "Uh, me and some of the guys were gonna head into town to Georgetown Cup Cakes and you know, just…chill and talk I guess…and I was wondering if you'd want to join us?"

Brooks raised an eyebrow in surprise at that as he glanced back at Knuble. Knuble just shrugged, looking equally surprised to see the two old friends even speaking to one another again. It had been weeks since they had talked much less hung out together.

"Uh, yeah sure…who all is going?" asked Brooks, too stunned to even think about turning down Mike's offer.

"Me, Karl, Mathieu, Nicky and John," said Mike, wincing as he listed out the players who were going. God this was gonna end in disaster…he had a visual image of a massive brawl in the middle of the bakery with no referees or coaches to split it up. This could get nasty really, really fast. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea…

"Oh, John's going?" asked Brooks, disdain evident in his voice as he and Knuble exchanged an annoyed glance.

"Yeah…look I know we all hate the kid, but he needs good role models, you know? And this was his idea after all," said Mike, trying to defend Carlson, "Maybe the kid's actually trying?"

Brooks frowned at that, "Look, Mike I know how much you like the kid, but he's really messed up. Going out for cupcakes after practice isn't gonna fix him."

Mike narrowed his eyes a little in resentment at Brooks' condescending tone, "Yeah, well at least I'm trying."

Brooks sighed, "No, I'm not trying to come down on you…I'm just telling you not to get your hopes up, Mike. I don't want you to get hurt when Carlson screws up and ends up hurting everyone again. It's just how the kid is."

Mike had about a million wonderful comebacks in relation to friends hurting friends that he so desperately wish he could say but he refrained. Now wasn't the time to get Brooks all ticked off. If he had any hope of getting Perreault and Carlson to talk in a civil manner to one another he had to convince Brooks to come with them to the bakery.

"Yeah…I know," he mumbled, "But…you're still welcome to come. It's…been awhile since we…since we hung out."

Brooks glanced away sharply at that and Knuble pretended to be extra busy untying his skates.

After a long awkward silence, Brooks finally spoke up, "Um, yeah…yeah I'll meet you guys there."

Mike sighed in relief, "Good…thanks. I, um, I guess I'll see you in a bit then."

Brooks nodded as Mike turned and walked back over to where his gear was stored. He watched his old friend walk away and frowned…when did things get so awkward between them? It was like they were strangers…and after all those years of being so close Brooks wasn't sure how in the world they had reached this point…or how they would ever move past it…

…

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," snarled Carlson as he and Marcus Johansson pulled into the parking lot of Georgetown Cup Cakes, "Why the hell is _he _here?"

Marcus glanced through the windows of the bakery and saw Perreault sitting at a table with Mike Green, Karl Alzner and Nicklas Backstrom.

"I dunno," he said with a yawn, "It's whatever John, shake it off. He won't bother you. I'm gonna be there so he'll probably keep to himself."

"When did he become such a pussy?" asked Carlson in disgust as he turned off the jeep's engine, "He used to party with us all the time in Hershey, remember?"

Marcus nodded, "Yeah he was a wild one…but he got tame for some reason. Now he's Mr. Serious and hates the world. Whatever…who cares? Come on let's go have fun…and see your girl," added Marcus with a knowing smirk.

Carlson laughed at that as he climbed out of the jeep. He had confided in MoJo the day that Anna-Marie had run out of his apartment. He told MoJo that he'd never had a girl run away like that before…and he'd never had a girl bother him that much. So she ran away, so what? Normally he just picked another girl up once the last one dumped him…but this girl was always on his mind and it was driving him insane. MoJo had picked on him and told him he thought Carlson was falling for the girl but John denied it. He said it wasn't possible…he was too independent and ADD when it came to females to settle down with just one. She was just hot and good in bed…that's why he missed her…at least that's how he justified it to MoJo.

"What the hell is he doing here?" asked Perreault as he glared daggers at the front door as John and Marcus came strolling in.

Mike groaned at the sight, "Shit…what the hell, Carlson?" he muttered under his breath, "He's doing this on purpose…just let it go, Mattie, please."

Perreault grew eerily quiet and stared down at his drink as Marcus and John settled in on the other side of the table. Marcus sat directly across from Perreault and smirked openly at Perreault's reaction to his presence.

"What's wrong, Mattie?" he asked as he playfully messed up Perreault's hair.

Perreault scowled at Marcus, "Knock it off," he mumbled.

"Aw, poor Mattie's in one of his moods, Johnnie," laughed Marcus.

Carlson briefly made eye-contact with Perreault and saw the depth of sadness in his old best friend's eyes. For a split second he felt a rush of guilt and sympathy for Perreault.

"Leave him alone," muttered Carlson to Marcus.

Marcus raised an eyebrow at that and gave Carlson a confused look, "What…"

"Stop," said Carlson firmly, "Not here."

Marcus sighed in annoyance and rolled his eyes, "Whatever, man…we gonna get cupcakes or what?"

Just then, Brooks Laich strolled in through the front door and made his way over to the group.

"Oh god," muttered Backstrom as he ran a hand through his blonde hair, "Let the fun begin."

Karl Alzner started mumbling a prayer under his breath, "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…"

Perreault couldn't help but smirk a little at that and nudged Alzner. The two players laughed slightly and glanced up as Brooks took a seat at the end of the table. Carlson watched Perreault's interaction with Alzner and felt a twinge of jealousy at their private joke. That's how they used to be. Carlson shook his head, angry with himself for being sentimental. Clearly he needed a good swig of vodka or something.

"Alright," he said, eager to get away from the table, "I'll be right back…gotta get my cupcake."

"Is he talking about an actual cupcake or the girl behind the counter?" asked Alzner, making Perreault laugh again. Mike had to cover his mouth with his hand to hide his smirk as they watched Carlson saunter coolly up to the counter.

Anna-Marie nearly had a heart attack when she turned around and saw John Carlson standing on the other side of the counter. Her mouth opened in shock but she couldn't form any words. She just stared at him in shock, unsure as to what she should do.

"Hey," said Carlson, looking down briefly, suddenly feeling self-conscious and slightly guiltily for what had happened between them, "I, um, I'm sorry about the other night…I probably should've waited till you were sober enough to…you know."

Anna-Marie bit her lower lip a little and fought a slight smirk. Here was this "Captain America," big-shot hockey player apologizing and acting all nervous and fidgety around _her_.

"It's fine, John," she said quickly, "I just…wasn't expecting to wake up in your bed."

Carlson nodded slightly, glancing away again, "Yeah…do you…do you regret it?"

Anna-Marie waited a long moment, letting Carlson squirm anxiously, fully enjoying the small power she was holding over him, "No…not at all."

Carlson couldn't hide the huge, relieved smile that overtook his face at that, "Good…I'm glad, because I don't either."

"Oh yeah?" asked Anna-Marie, giving him a seductive look.

Carlson felt goose bumps travel up his arms at that look. Damn…she was turning him on just looking at him like that. He could honestly say no girl had ever had that kind of power of his body. She was making it hard for him to breathe and she was a good ten feet away from him. How the hell did she do this?

"Yeah," he breathed, his voice husky, "You, um, you busy later?"

"I get off at eight tonight," she answered, her chin tilted up confidently…two could play this cocky, arrogant game.

Carlson smirked at her arrogant look, "Good…I'll be back then. Wanna hit the club, then maybe my place after?"

"How about my place after?" she suggested, surprising Carlson yet again.

He blinked in surprise and fought to control his excitement. This gorgeous woman just offered to show him where she lived. Yeah…he was definitely turned on now.

"That…that sounds great," said Carlson with his trademark shit-eating grin.

Anna-Marie returned the smile and reached down into the glass display case and pulled out a cupcake and handed it to him, "Chocolate ganache, right?"

Carlson smirked, "That's right…you know what I like, Anna-Marie."

She blushed furiously hearing him say her name like that. It brought back memories from that night they'd spent together. God she couldn't wait till eight tonight. She watched as he sauntered coolly back to his group of friends over at the far table near the window, day-dreaming of what was going to go down later tonight…

...

Back at the table, things were beyond awkward. Marcus was openly being rude and condescending to Perreault and Brooks found himself feeling more and more awkward sitting next to Mike. It had been so long since they'd talked that he found they no longer had anything to talk about anymore.

"So…how's Amanda?" asked Mike after a long awkward moment.

"She's good," said Brooks carefully, "She's busy…but good. I mean we both are really. It's hard finding time to balance the relationship with all the practices and working out I do."

"I bet," said Mike, trying hard to not put any sarcasm or bitterness into his reply, "But I wouldn't know."

Brooks swallowed nervously, "Yeah…you will one day, Mike. You just gotta find the right girl and you'll understand."

Mike smirked, "Yeah, maybe."

"So did I tell you what Carlson and I did the other night?" asked Marcus as he looked at Alzner and Perreault.

Alzner groaned and shook his head sharply, silently trying to tell Marcus to shut the hell up before he pissed Perreault off any more than he already had.

"We went to this club right and got totally wasted and…"

"How is that any different than when he goes out alone?" snapped Perreault, "I bet he doesn't even remember that he was out with you either."

Marcus glared at Perreault, "Oh he remembers, and coming from the guy that abandoned his best friend I don't think you have any room to be critical, Mathieu."

"Easy," warned Nicklas Backstrom on the other side of Karl Alzner, "Come on guys…not here, please."

Marcus rolled his eyes as Carlson returned to the table with a huge grin on his face.

"Did you ask her out?" asked Marcus excitedly.

Perreault glanced up at that and looked back and forth between Marcus and Carlson. Clearly they shared a little secret about the girl behind the counter. Perreault felt his gut twist with jealousy. There was once a time when Carlson would have run to him to tell him about whatever girl had grabbed his attention that day…but now that seemed to be MoJo's role in Carlson's life.

"Yeah and she seemed pretty excited about it," said Carlson with his cocky little grin and arrogant head tilt, "So I'm picking her up at eight, we're going clubbing, then…get this…we're going back to _her_ place after…she offered it."

"Ooo someone is getting it in tonight!" said MoJo, mimicking his favorite TV show, _Jersey Shore_, "YEAAAH BUDDY!"

Carlson laughed loudly at that and high-fived MoJo, much to Perreault's disdain. Backstrom and Alzner glanced nervously at Perreault, waiting for his reaction. Brooks was busy trying to make small talk with Mike but not having much luck. Things were just so different now and they were living two different lives…there was nothing to say.

"I'll see you guys later," murmured Perreault sadly as he stood up from the table, "I, uh, I got stuff to do," he said as he quickly walked out of the bakery.

Backstrom cursed in Swedish and glared at Carlson and MoJo, "Hope you two are happy," he sneered as he stood up and stomped out of the bakery in anger.

"Yeah I better go too," muttered Alzner as he stood up and walked away in frustration.

"What the hell?" asked Marcus, looking annoyed, "Wow you people need to lighten up."

Mike sighed as he and Brooks exchanged a look, "Yeah it's probably best if I go too," he said as he stood up. Brooks agreed with Mike and the two old friends left MoJo and Carlson to eat their cupcakes by themselves.

"Whatever," sneered MoJo.

Carlson frowned as he watched everyone leave. What the hell was wrong with everyone? All he and MoJo did was have a bit of fun. Everyone was so touchy lately. Whatever they could be that way…he had a hot date tonight and quite frankly, that's all Carlson really cared about in that moment. He smiled to himself as he took a bite of his cupcake and thought about how tonight was going to go down…

…

Please Review!


	6. Well One Out of Two Ain't Bad

John Carlson was all smiles as he followed Anna-Marie's directions to her apartment. He glanced over at her in the passenger seat and put a hand on her leg, making her blush furiously while she tried to direct him through the streets of Arlington. He smirked arrogantly at her reaction to his touch, knowing she'd be experience a lot more than just his hand on her leg in a few minutes.

They pulled into Anna-Marie's apartment complex and climbed out of the jeep. Carlson smiled at Anna-Marie as he took her hand and followed her up two flights of stairs to her apartment. They barely made it through the door before Carlson grabbed her and started to make out with her, giving her everything he had…

…

Early the next morning, Mathieu Perreault arrived at the Kettler Iceplex a good hour and a half before the rest of the team usually arrived. He wanted to go work out on the ice for awhile and work through his frustrations before he had an audience. He was beyond ticked off at John…and MoJo…and Mike for convincing him to go to that stupid Georgetown Cup Cakes place again…and Brooks for being stupid and causing drama with Mike…and himself for feeling utterly and completely alone all of a sudden.

He cursed as he laced up his skates and hit the ice. He grabbed a bucket of pucks and dumped them out, lining them up at center ice to take some long-distance slapshots at the empty net. As he sent the pucks sailing across the rink, he cursed his life and his old best friend. He hated it here now…things were so different from what they used to be. There was a point in time when he, MoJo and Carlson all goofed off together and were completely care-free. There was no excessive partying, alcohol or women…just them enjoying life, being kids, playing hockey.

Ever since they'd all been signed onto the Capitals though, things hadn't been the same. Carlson got into partying right off the bat and let the fame go to his head. He became obsessed with booze and women and slowly but surely began to push Perreault out of his life. It was a gradual thing, something they'd barely noticed, until one day Perreault had confronted Carlson on his habits. He had been worried that his best friend was heading down a dangerous road at full speed and that he would soon hit a brick wall…one that he would never be able to recover from. It scared Perreault and prompted him to talk to Carlson about it. It didn't sit well with John…not at all. He flipped out on Mathieu and told him to mind his own business. The two best friends got into an awful, heated fight and hadn't really spoken since. That was about two months ago…and still nothing had changed.

Perreault scowled as he remembered the secret little look that MoJo had exchanged with John…like they were two best friends sharing a private joke. What the hell was that all about? Since when did John and MoJo become best friends? Sure they'd all been friends at Hershey, but MoJo had his own people to hang out with. Hell, MoJo used to whine about Carlson's wild, crazy ways all the time and now suddenly they were best friends? The thought infuriated Perreault. He knew it was because deep down he was insanely jealous of MoJo, but he refused to openly admit it.

Just as he sent another puck sailing toward the empty net, the sound of skates cutting through the fresh sheet of ice alerted him to the fact that he was not alone. He whirled around and saw Brooks Laich skating around on the other side of the rink. He frowned in annoyance. He should have known that Mr. Type-A, OCD Man would come here early too. So much for alone time. He watched Brooks stretch out on the ice for a moment before he skated over to him. Despite his irritation at Mike Green for getting him to go to Georgetown Cup Cakes yesterday, he did feel bad for the guy. After all, they were both in the same position: they'd both lost their best friends right around the same time, just for different reasons. The least he could do was try and talk to Laich…maybe get him to hang out with Mike or something. At least one of them had a shot at getting their best friend back.

"Hey," said Perreault as he skated over to Laich.

Brooks glanced up from where he was stretch and gave Mathieu a cautious look, "Hi…you're here early."

"So are you," countered Perreault defensively.

"I always get here at least an hour early before practice," said Brooks, "So what are you up to?"

Perreault shrugged, "Just needed to…work a few things out."

Brooks gave Perreault a long, steady look before he nodded in understanding, "The Carlson thing still?"

Perreault nodded a little, glancing away, "Yeah…the Carlson thing."

"Not making any progress I'm guessing?" asked Brooks as he glanced at the pile of pucks at center ice.

Perreault shook his head, "Not really, no. You were at the Cup Cake place…you saw what happened."

"MoJo?" prompted Brooks.

"Yeah," growled Perreault, irritated at just the mention of Marcus Johansson's nickname, "He and my old best friend are all close all of a sudden. It sucks…hardcore."

"I'm sorry Mathieu," said Brooks, his eyes sad with sympathy, "That can't be easy to deal with."

"No," muttered Perreault as he gave Brooks a long look, "It's not easy for Mike to deal with either you know."

"Mike?" asked Brooks, looking confused, "What does he have to do with the Carlson issue?"

Perreault rolled his eyes in exasperation. For such a great, smart hockey player the man was an idiot when it came to his personal life.

"No, I mean…Mike's having a hard time dealing with you two not being friends anymore either," explained Perreault, "I know he doesn't talk to you about it cause he's gotta be Mr. Tough-Guy but trust me, its eating the guy alive. You've seen how upset I've been, well that's just because I wear my heart on my sleeve…Mike's been keeping it all in, but he feels the same way I do, Brooks and it sucks balls."

Brooks grimaced and gave Perreault a disapproving look at his choice of words, "Well…that's between me and Mike."

Perreault through his head back in frustration, fighting the urge to scream out of sheer annoyance. God this man was so dumb sometimes.

"Well that's the thing," said Perreault after a moment, "I don't think it's between you and Mike at all…quite frankly there's _nothing_ between you and Mike anymore and you're not doing much to rectify the situation and Mike won't talk about it so I guess a third party's gotta do the job, so here I am, Mr. Third Party, telling you how life is," said Perreault, growing louder and more animated as he spoke, "You need to stop ditching your best friend for some chick…she may not be around forever but I can promise you Mike always will be, hell he still is after all the shit you've put him through! He's still moping around, hoping you'll come back and ask to hang out again so while you're all in love or whatever the hell it is you're in, Mike's over there barely functioning because he misses you. Don't forget who's important in your life just because you have a female around. That's just stupid. Sorry, but it is what is Brooks and if you don't like hearing it, tough because you need to and no one else will say it so I will. There. I said it."

"Are you done?" asked Brooks after a long, awkward, tense moment, his voice hard and his eyes bright with anger.

Perreault slid back away from Brooks a little when he noticed how uptight Brooks had become during his rant, "Um…yeah…I'm done. Look, don't hate me okay? I'm just the messenger…don't shoot me. Just…remember how important Mike was to you, alright? Talk to him."

Before Brooks could reply, loud sounds of cheering and screams came from the locker room as Alex Ovechkin and Alex Semin came racing out and onto the ice. Michael Neuvirth, Karl Alzner and Jason Chimera followed behind, laughing hysterically about something as they hit the ice. Perreault raised an eyebrow in curiosity as he waited to see what they were all laughing about. Just then, Tomas Vokoun came lumbering out of the locker room, his face completely caked in shaving cream.

"He's gonna kick your ass," laughed Perreault as Semin skated over to him.

Semin leaned on Perreault and put his head on his shoulder, laughing hysterically and saying something in Russian.

"Dude, I speak English," said Perreault, unable to hide a smirk of amusement as Semin practically started cuddling with him, "God Russians are so weird…get off me you freak!"

Ovechkin skated over to them and Semin was immediately distracted as he let go of Perreault and clung onto his best friend. Perreault watched in amusement and mild disgust as the two Russians basically started cuddling and laughing together in the middle of the rink.

Soon the rest of the team arrived and joined the others out on the ice. John Carlson, Mike Green and Marcus Johansson were the last to arrive, much to Perreault's chagrin. Mike was always late because he was, well, Mike Green…that's just how life went. John and MoJo arrived together, both of them glassy-eyed and looking dead on their feet…shocker.

"Yo, Ovi," said Carlson as he skated over toward the awkwardly-cuddling Russians, "I brought my girl to practice…she wants to meet you after. She's in the stands now."

Ovechkin puffed out his chest at that, "You're girlfriend want to meet me?" he asked with a cocky smile, "Ah, American boy not good enough for her…she wants a Russian, no?"

"No," said Carlson firmly, giving Ovechkin a warning look, "I'm serious about this one, Ovi. She's different…okay? No flirting, no touching, none of that shit."

Ovechkin gave Carlson a confused look, "Well what am I supposed to do when I meet her then?"

Carlson rolled his eyes, "Just talk to her, okay?"

Ovechkin shrugged and turned back to Semin. The two Russians began muttering something to each other while casting annoyed glances in Carlson's direction.

Perreault took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Time to just let everything go for now and focus on practice. They had a big game tonight against the Philadelphia Flyers and he wanted to make sure he was good and ready for it, regardless of Carlson and whatever other drama was going on…

…

Anna-Marie was practically bouncing with excitement as she waited with Carlson outside the Kettler Iceplex after practice.

"You said he was coming right?" she asked for the third time in the past ten minutes.

Carlson rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. Why the hell was his girlfriend so obsessed with Alex Ovechkin? Why were _all _the girls so obsessed with the man? He was a freaking Russian for crying out loud!

"Yes, he's coming," said Carlson, an annoyed note in his voice.

"I'm sorry," apologized Anna-Marie as she reached for Carlson's hand, "It's just…he's so epic! Everyone always talks about him and I get to meet him! It's so exciting!"

"Yep…thrilling," muttered Carlson as he sighed again.

Anna-Marie rolled her eyes at Carlson. Whatever, she'd make it up to him later. For now she just wanted to see Alex Ovechkin. Sure enough, as soon as she thought those very words, The Great Eight came strolling arrogantly out of the building and made a bee-line for her and Carlson. She had to bite her lower lip to keep from squealing as he walked over and held out his hand.

"You must be Carlson's girl," he crooned in his thick accent, "He says lots of good things 'bout you. You very beautiful."

Anna-Marie blushed under Ovechkin's compliment while Carlson glared daggers at his captain. Ovechkin merely winked at Carlson as he put an arm around Anna-Marie and led her away from John.

"Ovechkin stealin' your girl already?" mocked MoJo as he walked out of the Kettler Iceplex.

"Shut up," grumbled John as he glared over at where Alex had taken Anna-Marie. He was leaning up against his beautiful black sports car and talking excitedly with Anna-Marie. She looked equally happy to be chatting with the Russian captain, much to Carlson's disdain.

"Aw, come on Johnnie," said MoJo, "He's only having a bit of fun…he is the shit you know. It's Alex Fucking Ovechkin…what are you gonna do, you know?"

Carlson sneered, "Whatever…I won the junior Olympics."

MoJo laughed at that, "How much longer are you gonna keep pulling that line?"

John glared daggers at MoJo and tried to punch him in the face. MoJo laughed as he moved quickly out of Carlson's reach.

Just then, Mathieu Perreault strolled out of the building and glanced around at the activity around him. Not many fans were around today so he didn't have to sign many autographs. He glanced over and saw a very pretty girl talking to Ovechkin, nothing new there…then he saw Carlson leaning on his jeep, glaring hard at Ovechkin and the girl. MoJo was standing next to him, but keeping his distance, laughing and glancing warily at Carlson as if he might attack him or something. Perreault narrowed his eyes as he studied John glaring at Ovechkin, and then it hit him…that girl must be Carlson's new female. He'd never seen John so distraught over a guy talking to one of his girls before. Most of Carlson's girls were one-shot deals, but this one…this was the one from the Georgetown Cup Cake place. He raised an eyebrow at that…maybe this is what MoJo meant when he brought up Carlson's new girl yesterday. Maybe Carlson really was serious about a girl…for once. Interesting.

Carlson felt like someone was watching him and glanced over. He froze for a second when he saw that it was Perreault who was watching him. Perreault flinched as if he'd been hit and walked away quickly to his car. Carlson frowned slightly as he watched Perreault peel out of the parking lot and wondered briefly how in the hell things had gotten so screwed up between them. He sighed and shook those thoughts from his mind. Right now he had to worry about getting his girl away from the flirting Russian across the parking lot…

…

Mike picked up his bag of equipment and prepared to leave the locker room. For once he was one of the last guys to leave. The only other guy in the locker room was Brooks Laich and after how awkward things were between them at Georgetown Cup Cakes yesterday, he didn't want to stick around much longer. But just as he was heading for the door he felt someone grab his shoulder.

"Mike," said Brooks quietly, "Can…can we talk?"

Mike swallowed nervously as he turned around slowly, "Uh, yeah…sure," he said as he sat his stuff back down and grabbed a seat on the bench across from Brooks, "What's up?"

Brooks sighed and looked down before he replied, "Well…I had a talk with one of our teammates this morning before practice…and he kind of put me in my place."

Mike raised an eyebrow at that, "What? Who?"

"Oh I'm sure you'll be able to guess after I'm done," smirked Brooks, "But…he made me think about…about how things have been so awkward between us and I realize that it's my fault. I know I'm the one who's wrong and…I want to make it right. He told me you've been pretty upset by how things have been between us and that bothered me, a lot. Mike," said Brooks with feeling as he looked up at Mike, "You're my best friend, you always have been and you always will be…even when I'm an ass and replace you with a girl."

Mike's eyes widened in shock for a moment before he realized who must have talked to Brooks, "Perreault…you talked to Perreault."

Brooks smirked, "Yeah, I talked to Perreault. He was pretty upset about it too…I think that comes from the fact that he's lost his best friend recently too and he doesn't want to see you in that position either. He's a good kid…emotional and temperamental…but a good kid."

Mike smiled a little at that, "Yeah he is."

"So," said Brooks as he cleared his throat, "I know that things might be awkward for awhile till we get back to the way we were, but…I'd like to try hanging out again. You know, hit the old haunts, watch chick flicks, rejuvenate the Baby Blue Sound Crew band we started…all that stuff we did in the old days."

Mike's eyes lit up in excitement at that, "Yeah…yeah I'd like that," he said with a huge smile on his face, making Brooks laugh.

"So you busy tonight?" he asked.

Mike smirked as he stood up to hug Brooks, "Aw, Brooksie…I thought you'd never ask!"

Brooks laughed loudly at that as he hugged Mike. The two best friends grabbed their bags and walked out of the Kettler Iceplex together for the first time in over two months…

…

Please Review!


	7. Fists a Flyin'

The locker room was buzzing with excitement as the Washington Capitals prepared to take to the ice in their hometown rink, the Verizon Center. Tonight promised to be a good, long, hard night of hockey. The Capitals were facing off with one of their rivals, the Philadelphia Flyers, a team known for hard hits and an amazing offensive line. It would be a challenge, but the old Washington Capitals team had never been afraid of a good challenge…but that was before the drama of John Carlson had infiltrated the locker room. Even now the team could feel the tension and worry in the room. It was like a giant elephant no one was willing to openly address and it made things incredibly awkward.

As usual these days, John Carlson sauntered into the locker room a full half hour late. The rest of the team scowled at his late arrival and rolled their eyes in disgust. Only Marcus Johansson smirked at his new best friend and patted the empty seat next to him. Carlson nodded in his direction and settled in next to MoJo. Perreault sneered openly at that, loud enough for everyone to hear. Carlson glared across the room at Perreault and instantly the tension in the locker room kicked up a notch.

"This could be ugly," murmured Mike as he leaned over to whisper to Brooks Laich.

Brooks nodded, his eyes hard and serious as he studied the two glaring, ex-best friends, "Yeah, I know. That's what I'm worried about."

Mike frowned a little but was secretly happy to be gossiping about locker room drama again with his best friend. Thanks to Perreault, Brooks and Mike had decided to try and patch things up. Mike's mood had literally improved over night. He and Brooks had gone to Mike's apartment and watched chick flicks and practiced on their old drums and guitars most of the night. They didn't get much sleep but it was more than worth it. It felt good to laugh again and goof off like they used to.

"Let's just pray they don't drop the gloves," muttered Mike, "I swear it was embarrassing enough in practice but out there…"

Brooks shuddered at the very thought, "Let's not even think about that. I'd kill both of them."

Mike nodded in agreement as Coach Bruce Boudreau made his way into the locker room followed closely by "Bad News Smitty," their trainer and on-ice medic.

"Alright boys," said Coach as he quieted everyone down, "Tonight's a big night, but don't let it go to your heads. Just keep doing what we've been practicing at Kettler. Special teams, I need you sharp tonight, we have no room for mistakes against these assholes, got it?"

The team grunted in agreement as they stood up and prepared to take the ice. They organized themselves into a line and waited for their cue. As Perreault walked over to take his place behind Carlson, he caught a glimpse of John's eyes and froze. They were blood-shot and shiny as hell.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" seethed Perreault as he leaned in closer to Carlson, "What the hell, John? You're drunk!"

The entire team grew quiet as they turned to look at Carlson. John glared at Perreault with absolute fury in his eyes.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" he yelled angrily, "Back the hell off Perreault! Just get in line."

"Fuck you," snarled Perreault as he slid into line behind Carlson.

"Knock it off, both of you," hissed Mike Knuble from in front of Carlson, "We don't have time to deal with that shit. Get your heads in the game, now!"

A few other players murmured their agreement and Carlson and Perreault fell silent, each seething with rage at the other as the music began playing and the Capitals poured out onto the Verizon Center ice…

…

Backstrom glanced nervously over his shoulder as he headed to the faceoff dot. It was the beginning of the second period and the Capitals were down zero to two. For some reason, Boudreau kept putting Carlson and Perreault out on the ice together and the tension was unbelievable. Carlson refused to pass the puck up to Perreault and had created several bad turnovers. Perreault kept cussing Carlson out in frustration, further aggravating the already ticked off young defenseman. Things were going downhill fast and it didn't look like it was going to get any better any time soon. Backstrom frowned as he watched Perreault and Carlson stare each other down as they arranged themselves around the faceoff dot.

"Nineteen! You ready?" shouted the referee.

Backstrom whirled around and saw that everyone was waiting for him to take his position at the faceoff dot. He muttered an apology as he bent down and waited for the puck to drop. The second it hit the ice he won the draw and sent the puck back to Carlson. Perreault immediately skated up ice and found a clear channel. He looked back and called out to Carlson to pass the puck up, but Carlson took one look at Perreault and sneered before he charged up the ice with it himself. Perreault cursed Carlson loudly just as Chris Pronger snatched the puck away from Carlson and began heading down toward the Capitals' end of the rink.

Backstrom cried out in panic as he raced back, trying desperately to back-check the racing Flyers player. Alzner skated backwards in front of Pronger and swept his stick back and forth, trying to sweep the puck away, but it was all in vain. Pronger deftly moved out of Alzner's way and sent a wrister right past the glove hand of Tomas Vokoun.

"What the fuck was that?" screamed Perreault as he caught up to Carlson, "What the hell is your problem? You saw me! I know you did! I was fucking wide-open you asshole!"

Carlson sneered openly at Perreault, "Why should I help you score a goal?"

Perreault gave Carlson a disbelieving look, "Because I'm on your team! How's that for a reason?" he exclaimed, well-beyond the point of anger.

Carlson just shrugged, "It's whatever," he said, his speech slightly slurred and his eyes glassy and unfocused.

"It's because you're a freaking alcoholic!" shouted Perrault, "This whole thing is because you can't get off your alcohol or your women! You're a fucking disgrace…why the hell are you even here right now?"

Carlson whirled on Perreault, "Shut the fuck up!"

"Fuck you!" shouted Perreault, "You've cost us at least two goals already tonight because you're too good to pass me the damn puck! I'll say whatever the hell I wanna say!"

"Oh know," muttered Backstrom nervously as he, Ovechkin and Brouwer all stood at center ice and watched the exchange, "This isn't gonna end well."

The shouting continued until Carlson turned around, acting like he was going to skate away from the situation, but whirled around instead and landed a good, solid punch right into the side of Perreault's head. Instantly the entire Capitals bench leapt to their feet in shock and horror. Ovechkin, Backstrom and Brouwer raced over and pulled the two teammates apart. Perreault was collapsed on the ice, clutching the side of his face and groaning in pain. Carlson was still seething with rage as Brouwer roughly shoved him back.

"Fuck you Carlson," he snarled right in John's face, "You're fucked up and you know it…back the hell off before I put my fist through your face."

Carlson glared in fury at Brouwer but knew well enough to keep quiet. Brouwer was a more quiet player on the team, but he was known throughout the league as being one hell of a good fighter. He was one of the last players that anyone would want to mess with. Brouwer grabbed Carlson and escorted him roughly back to the Capitals' bench while Ovechkin and Backstrom helped Perreault get up off the ice. "Bad News Smitty" came over and began to inspect Perreault's face. He had a good gash right on his cheek bone where Carlson had landed his powerful blow. Perreault was rattled and bleeding, but he would be okay. Smitty escorted Perreault back into the locker room to give him some stitches and smelling salts to help revive him, while the rest of the team glared in fury at Carlson.

"He fucking started it," muttered Carlson from the bench.

"You're an idiot," sneered Brooks Laich in disgust, "An absolute idiot…you realize you just decked your best friend right? Or are you too far gone to even know what you're doing?"

Carlson glanced away sharply at that and refused to answer. Mike and Brooks exchanged a knowing look before they took to the ice for their shift.

"I was really hoping that wasn't gonna happen," said Mike with a frown, "I was hoping they'd work things out like we did."

Brooks gave Mike a sympathetic smile as he put a hand on his best friend's shoulder, "Me too, Mikey, me too."

…

By the start of the third period, Mathieu Perreault was back on the bench and ready to play again. He sat at the far end of the bench, as far away from Carlson as humanly possible. The two teammates refused to look at one another and continued playing without acknowledging the others' presence. Boudreau kept them separated as much as possible, but because of his line setup for the night, the two were forced to play together for short intervals in-between shift rotations.

There were only five minutes remaining in the third period and the Capitals were down three to one. Backstrom had scored after a beautiful setup by Ovechkin and Green during a power play but other than that, the Capitals had been rather quiet tonight. Boudreau ordered a line change and Carlson and Perreault took to the ice. Perreault took his spot at the faceoff dot and sent the puck back to Karl Alzner. Alzner controlled the pass and began moving up ice. Just as a Flyers' forward headed toward him, Alzner sent a quick wrister over to a waiting John Carlson.

The second Carlson touched the puck, however, Jagr slammed into him hard from behind. The crowd leapt to their feet in fury at the obvious boarding call but the refs never touched their whistles. Carlson crumpled to the ice in agony, but the referees allowed play to continue. The Capitals bench was on their feet, screaming in fury. Boudreau was shouting at the referees but they paid him no mind as the Flyers re-gathered the puck and began moving down ice.

Despite their earlier confrontation and Carlson's jerk-move, Perreault was infuriated at what Jagr had done. They may not be friends anymore, but no one, especially Jagr, got away with boarding one of his teammates. Without a second thought Perreault dropped his stick on the ice and charged toward Jagr. Jagr turned around and gave Perreault a surprised look as he charged him. The kid was half his size and still rather new to the NHL. What the hell did he think he was doing taking him on?

Perreault shook off his gloves and threw himself at Jagr, fists flying in fury. Instantly, Knuble and Chimera reacted and began racing back to help Perreault who was sure to be easily overpowered by the much larger, more experienced Jagr. Perreault's fists flew rapidly as he landed punch after punch on the very-startled-looking Flyers' all-star. Despite his much smaller size, Perreault's surprise attack had startled Jagr and he'd lost his balance, tumbling onto the ice under Perreault's merciless onslaught.

After a good thirty seconds of punching Jagr repeatedly, Jason Chimera literally picked Perreault up and lifted him into the air and away from Jagr. Perreault struggled, still trying to punch, kick and curse Jagr as Chimera carried him away from the situation.

"Easy kid!" grunted Chimera as Knuble came over to help carry Perreault away from Jagr, "Take it easy, Mattie! You jacked him up good, kid! Let it go!"

Perreault took several deep, heaving breaths as Chimera held onto him, still scared that the enraged little center would make another flying leap at the now-bleeding and half-conscious Flyers' player. Perreault glared at Jagr like he wanted him to drop dead as the Flyers' medic and a couple other players helped him get off the ice. The rest of the Flyers' team started shouting threats to Perreault, reigniting Perreault's fury.

"Ah, no!" said Chimera as he tightened his grip on the struggling Perreault, "That's enough for you, come on…back to the bench."

Chimera and Knuble escorted Perreault back to the bench while Smitty and Erskine helped get Carlson. Perreault made a bee-line for the locker room, knowing full-well he'd get kicked out for that stunt or killed by the entire Flyers' team for destroying Jagr. The rest of the Capitals' bench smacked him on the butt as he made his way out of the rink. Most of the guys were cheering and slapping their sticks on the boards in applause at Perreault's heroic act in defending Carlson. Smitty helped get a barely-conscious Carlson down the tunnel toward the locker room to tend to his injuries. The team all wished him well as he disappeared down the tunnel.

"Um, yeah…didn't see that one coming," said Mike as he and Brooks took to the ice for the last shift of the night.

Brooks smirked a little and shook his head in bewilderment, "Me either, Mikey…but I guess when you really care about someone, no matter how stupid they can be, you'll still do what you gotta do to protect them."

Mike nodded in agreement that, "Yeah…you will."

Brooks smiled as he patted his best friend on the back, "Guess Perreault can't hate Carlson all that much then eh? There's hope for those two yet."

Mike frowned at that, "It's not Perreault's feelings I'm worried about…I know the kid still loves his best friend…it's Carlson that's the problem. The guy won't give up the alcohol."

Brooks sighed as they headed toward the faceoff circle, "Yeah…I know. I'm afraid its gonna take something pretty serious to wake Carlson up and get him to turn his life around…I just hope whatever it takes comes sooner rather than later…"

…

Please Review!


	8. Confession

**I don't know about you all but the past two Capitals games have been incredibly depressing…so I decided to write a happier update : ) Let us pray that Mike Green returns to us soon (because Collins is a sad excuse for a "Mike Green replacement") Enjoy the update!**

Perreault began ripping off his pads and tossing them around the Capitals locker room, still seething with rage from his grudge-match with the Flyers' Jagr. He cursed to himself as he re-gathered his pads and began tossing them angrily into his stall, muttering threats and various ways he would like to tear Jagr apart.

Just as Perreault finished tearing his gear off, Smitty came into the locker room escorting John Carlson to the medical room in the back. Perreault froze, his eyes locked on his old best friend as he watched him struggle through the locker room. His heart felt like it was ripping when he saw the look of agony on Carlson's face. Despite what had gone down between them and the stupid shit Carlson had been pulling lately, it hurt Perreault to see Carlson like this. He quickly changed out of his gear and threw on a fresh t-shirt and pair of sweatpants, then raced into the medical room to see what the verdict was on John.

Carlson growled in pain as Smitty began to inspect his knee, "Ah fuck you Smitty! Damn it!"

"Suck it up, Carlson," grumbled Smitty, "It's twisted it's not broken…it's gonna swell like a balloon so you're gonna have to ice her up for awhile. How are your ribs? Lay down you asshole, stop being so fucking stubborn!"

Carlson glared at Smitty as he slowly lowered his body back down on the examination table, "I hate this shit…let me go back out!"

Smitty gave a sharp, mocking laugh at that, "Ha! Johnnie you aren't touching ice for at least a week, buddy. Bruised ribs and a twisted knee? Sorry kid, you're benched."

"Hey," said Perreault quietly as he walked in, glancing around the room hesitantly, "I just, um, wanted to check on John."

Carlson glanced up in surprise at Perreault and raised an eyebrow at him, "What do you want?"

"Shut your face you asshole," growled Smitty, losing patience with the arrogant, loud-mouthed defenseman, "Perreault kicked Jagr's ass for what he did to you. Show a little appreciation…it wouldn't kill you to be nice you know."

Carlson glanced back and forth between Smitty and Perreault in shock, "He…you what? You…you went after Jagr? Perreault what the hell? Dude, the guy's like three times your size!"

Perreault smirked a little and glanced away, "Yeah…I know, but…he hurt you and the ref didn't do a damn thing about it. So…I did."

Carlson shook his head in disbelief, "Did you win?"

Perreault's smirk widened, "Hell yeah I won."

Carlson couldn't help but smile at the visual image of little Perreault beating the shit out of the massive Jagr.

"Holy shit," he said slowly, shaking his head in disbelief, "Damn…thanks."

Perreault shrugged, "You don't have to thank me…it's…it's what friends do."

Perreault glanced away and slipped back out of the room. Carlson watched him leave, a feeling of guilt making his stomach clench as he realized what Perreault had nearly sacrificed just to defend his honor…and all after what had gone down between them…after all _he _had done.

"Sure didn't see MoJo jump in there to defend you," murmured Smitty as he wrapped Carlson's ribs up. Carlson looked up sharply and gave Smitty a warning glare. Smitty just shrugged, "Hey…I'm just saying. He's the only one who was willing to defend you. Might wanna keep that in mind the next time you wanna beat the shit out of your best friend."

…

Anna-Marie had just finished watching the end of the Capitals game from her apartment. The Caps had won four to three and she was ecstatic for them, but she had also seen John go down hard and was really nervous when she saw the Caps medic help get him off of the ice. That little guy though, the one that had come to Georgetown Cup Cakes a couple times with Carlson, had done a number on the jerk who had hit Carlson. She mentally told herself to remember to thank the guy the next time she saw him. She'd waited until the game had ended to try and call Carlson. She figured he wouldn't be able to answer his phone right away since he'd have to get taken care of by the team medic.

Carlson answered on the third ring, "Hey baby," he crooned into the phone.

Anna-Marie breathed a sigh of relief just hearing his voice, "Hey! I'm glad you're okay…I watched the game. That Jagr guy is such a jackass!"

Carlson laughed, "Yeah tell me about it…hey I'm on my way to your place right now. You wanna go out for a bit?"

Anna-Marie glanced down at her new Washington Capitals Carlson number seventy-four sweatshirt and sweatpants and had a small panic attack. Her hair was thrown up in a messy ponytail with pieces sticking out everywhere and she had no makeup on. No way in hell could she let Carlson see her like this!

"Uh, well actually I'm really not dressed," she said nervously, "I mean…if you give me a bit…"

"I'm here, babe," he said with a slight laugh, "And no worries…we can stay in tonight if you'd like."

"But…John, I look like a train wreck," said Anna-Marie as she peeked through the blinds and saw his jeep sitting in the parking lot of the apartment complex.

"Not possible," said John, "Don't worry about it…I'll be right up."

Anna-Marie didn't have any more time to protest. John hung up and climbed out of the jeep, making a beeline for the staircase that led up to her apartment. Anna-Marie flinched when she heard him knock on her door and tried desperately to push back the loose pieces of dark brown hair as she pulled the door open.

Carlson took one look at Anna-Marie and his heart skipped a beat. She…she was wearing his sweatshirt? With his number on it?

"Damn," he breathed as he stepped into the apartment.

"I told you I looked awful," whined Anna-Marie as she tried to turn away from Carlson.

Carlson reached out and pulled her close against him, "The hell you do…you look fucking amazing. I love the sweatshirt…damn you're so fucking hot."

Anna-Marie's eyes opened in astonishment as he bent down and began to kiss her passionately. As the kissing grew more and more heated, the young couple stumbled into the bedroom, Carlson carefully lifting Anna-Marie's new sweatshirt over her head as he closed the door behind them…

…

"I think I have a problem," said Carlson as he walked into the locker room the next morning at practice. Even though he wasn't able to skate because of his knee, he still wanted to show up and watch. That and Anna-Marie had pretty much talked him into it. He had opened up to her last night and told her about his issues with Perreault and the rest of the team. She had told him it would make a good impression on the rest of the guys if he still came to practice to watch and talk to the guys. So far though, the guys looked pretty unhappy to see him.

"Well that's a step in the right direction," said Knuble with a sneer.

"Step one is admitting you have a problem," agreed Brooks Laich as he gave Carlson a perplexed look, "So, go on…I'm interested in hearing you explain your problem to us."

Carlson glared daggers at Brooks and Knuble, "No you assholes…I don't have a drinking problem, that's not what I'm talking about."

Knuble and Brooks exchanged a glance just as Mike walked in.

"Yeah okay, kid," muttered Brooks, "The hell you don't. You keep telling yourself that…next time you come to a game drunk I'll remind you that you don't have a problem. Makes perfect sense, doesn't it Mike?"

Mike glanced at Carlson as he approached the trio, "Not really no…so what's this other problem in your life Carlson?" he asked, only half-interested in what the young defenseman who had caused so much drama last game had to say.

"I think…I think I'm in love," he said slowly.

Mike Green nearly choked on his mouthful of water, Brooks Laich froze and gave Carlson a shocked look, and Knuble laughed openly at Carlson's statement.

"Yeah right, good one," he said with a smirk, "You're an ass, Johnnie."

"I'm not joking!" insisted Carlson, giving Knuble an annoyed look, "I'm dead serious…I think…I think I really do like Anna-Marie. She's not like the others…I don't know things are just different with her you know? Like…I don't want to be with anyone else now that I've been with her. And...she's all I think about and all I worry about and I just…damn it she's just so fucking perfect. And…she bought my hoodie…with _my _number on it! I mean, I know lots of girls do that but…seeing it on her just…damn it just turned me on."

Mike looked like he had just seen a ghost as he shook his head, "Holy shit," he muttered slowly, "John Carlson is in love…for real."

"Are you serious?" asked Brooks as he gave Carlson a long, steady look, "Oh my god he is!"

"I told you!" said Carlson rolling his eyes, "So…what do I do?"

Knuble laughed again, "Oh kid you have so much to learn," he said as he put an arm around Carlson's shoulders, "Start by taking her on a real date…not some club, take her to a real restaurant. Spoil the shit outta her. Make her feel like she is the only woman in the world who could ever catch your eye."

"She is," said Carlson as he glanced away, smiling to himself.

Mike looked horrified by Carlson's reaction, "Holy shit what has this girl done to you? Carlson's a goner boys!" he announced so the rest of the locker room could here, "Cupid fuckin' hit him with a fuckin' arrow!"

Perreault looked up at that and gave Carlson a confused look, "What? No way! Non Johnnie! Not the pimp!"

Carlson shot Perreault a fake glare, "Shut up, Mathieu…if my knee wasn't jacked up I'd come over there and kick your ass."

Perreault laughed at that, "Again? Dude, give me a break! I'm still sore from last night!"

Carlson flinched a little at that and gave Perreault a smirk, "Ouch…yeah, touché on that one bro."

Perreault laughed and waved Carlson off, "Whatever don't sweat it. It's forgotten."

The rest of the team glanced at each other in confusion as they listened to Perreault and Carlson joke around like they used to.

"What the hell is going on?" asked Mike, his eyes wide with confusion as he leaned in and whispered to Brooks Laich, "Did I miss something?"

Brooks' face mirrored Mike's, "Pretty sure we all missed something, Mike."

"Okay…just…making sure, because the last time I saw them talk to each other they were throwing punches…in the middle of the Verizon Center…in the middle of a game."

Mike and Brooks watched as John hobbled over to Mathieu and began talking to him about Anna-Marie, both best friends looking equally shocked and confused by the recent turn of events.

"The Cup Cake girl?" asked Perreault as he gave Carlson a disbelieving look, "No way…she's hot as hell! What's she doing with you? You gotta be lying."

Carlson shoved Perreault's shoulder and rolled his eyes, "Fuck you, Mattie," he said with a laugh, "And yeah 'the Cup Cake girl.' Her name is Anna-Marie and I've been seeing her for awhile now. It's just that…as of last night…I realized…I really, really like her. Like, I think I love her dude."

Perreault and Carlson began whispering excitedly to each other about Carlson's new girl while Brooks and Mike looked on in disbelief.

"Don't get too excited," said Knuble as he noted the looks on the two best friends' faces, "I have a feeling this ain't over yet. They may be okay now but the next time Carlson comes in drunk, hung-over or screws up it'll be business as usual. I hate to be the party pooper, but…the kid's messed up. He just won't admit how messed up he really is."

Brooks frowned at that and nodded, "Yeah…yeah I know. But it's up to him to fix his issue. Maybe the girl will inspire him to do something about it?"

Mike Green nodded, "Yeah…I hope so. I like seeing those two together again. It sucks fighting with your best friend."

"Yeah it does," agreed Brooks as he put an arm around Mike's shoulders and gave him a hug.

Knuble screwed his face up and pretended to be grossed out, "Ugh, get a room you two," he said with a laugh, "Alright enough of this love shit…I'm gonna go practice. The rest of you love birds can join me if you'd like."

Just then, Ovechkin and Semin came strolling into the locker room, an arm draped over each other's shoulders and laughing hysterically about something.

"Wow," muttered Knuble as he watched the two Russian best friends hug on each other, "Okay, yeah that's enough for me…see you boys on the ice."

The team laughed as Knuble made a quick exit and escaped the "love-filled" Capitals locker room…

…

**Please Review! **


	9. Caught

**I apologize for the long hiatus…hopefully this will make up for my absence! Enjoy!**

The weeks flew by for the Capitals as the season passed the midway point. The Capitals had steadily climbed up the ladder and were now in the third spot in the league, on the fast track to the playoffs. Things between Perreault and Carlson had been smooth for the most part and Mike and Brooks' friendship was now completely restored to the way it used to be…but this was all just the calm before the storm…and everyone knew it. Things had been just too perfect lately…something was going to pop and it was going to pop soon.

Tensions were high in the locker room that morning at the Kettler Iceplex in Arlington, Virginia. There wasn't any rhyme or reason to the tension…it was just there. Everyone was on edge and it wouldn't take much for someone to finally give in and explode. Unfortunately it didn't take long for that explosion to occur.

"Where the hell is John Carlson?" asked an annoyed-looking Mike Knuble as he scanned the locker room, "We're supposed to be on the ice in five minutes!"

Perreault glanced around nervously, "Lay off, Knubes. He's been coming on time lately…so he's late once, so what?"

Knuble sneered at that, "Once? He shouldn't be late at all first of all and second of all this is not the first time that punk's been late."

Perreault frowned at that and looked away. He didn't have much to say in defense of his best friend. Although they had patched things up between the two of them, the past week or so Carlson had been slipping back into his old ways and this worried Perreault. Instead of jumping down his throat like Perreault had done last time, he had chosen to ignore Carlson's actions, but deep down he wondered how much longer he would be able to go on ignoring them before things got out of hand.

Just yesterday the two best friends were supposed to hang out, but Carlson had passed out drunk on the street and called Perreault to come pick him up. Loyal as ever, Perreault picked up his best friend and took him back to Carlson's apartment where Anna-Marie was waiting with a very worried look on her face. She and Perreault had shared a quick, knowing look…both of them very worried for Carlson…as Perreault helped her get John to the couch.

Perreault frowned at the memory as he laced up his skates, silently praying that Carlson was okay. He'd dropped him off at his apartment at two in the afternoon and hadn't heard from him since then. He prayed his best friend had enough sense in him to not go back out again.

"Let's go! On the ice!" roared Boudreau as he entered the locker room, "Move your lazy asses you shitbums!"

Mike Green groaned at the tone in Boudreau's voice and glanced over at Brooks Laich, "Can you please shoot me now? He sounds pissed which means practice is gonna suck. I don't wanna do this."

Laich rolled his eyes at Mike, "Suck it up buttercup…come on you fo-hawk-loving, lazy, couch potato. You could use a good workout anyway…you're looking a tad pudgy these days."

Mike Green glared daggers at his best friend while Brooks Laich laughed hard at his own joke, "Just kidding buddy…come on let's hit the ice."

Mike muttered something about Brooks being married to his stupid gym as he followed the rest of the team out onto the practice rink. Coach Boudreau rolled his eyes at both of them as he trailed out after his team, fully prepared to put them through the paces that morning.

…

"Where the hell is he?" hissed Mathieu Perreault as he skated over to Marcus Johansson.

MoJo gave Perreault an annoyed look. He strongly resented the young center. If it wasn't for Perreault, he and Carlson would be best friends, but no, stupid goody-good Perreault had to always get in the way. Carlson was so lame when he was around Perreault. MoJo preferred the partying, wild, crazy side of Carlson, not the love-struck sap that Perreault and that female had turned him into.

"And why would I know?" snapped MoJo curtly, "You're his best friend…why don't you figure it out?"

Perreault gave MoJo an exasperated look, "Are you really going to be like this? Why can't we all just hang out like we did in Hershey?"

"Because you changed, Mathieu," said MoJo, glaring accusingly at Perreault, "You used to party it up with all of us and now you just work out and practice and sit around and mope about shit. You sobered up and sober Perreault sucks balls."

Perreault shook his head at MoJo, sneering openly at his accusation, "Sorry…guess some of decided to grow up. You should try it sometime, MoJo…it'd do you a world of good."

"Easy," warned Alex Semin as he skated by, "No fighting…Boudreau make us do suicides again, remember? Those not fun."

MoJo rolled his eyes at the Russian before casting another glare in Perreault's direction, "Stay the hell away from me."

"With pleasure," growled Perreault, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Aw, really come on," said Mike Green as he skated over to Semin, "Are you two really doing this right now? I swear to god if you drop your damn gloves and make us skate suicides I'll make _you both _want to commit suicide."

Semin leaned on Mike, happy to have a friend nearby to cuddle with. Mike Green gave Semin an exasperated look, "Europeans," he muttered under his breath as Semin clung onto him.

"MoJo just hasn't grown up yet," sneered Perreault, "He's pissed because I'm not a drunk like he and Carlson are."

"Take it easy, Mathieu," said Nicklas Backstrom as he skated by, "Don't get involved."

"Yeah," agreed Alzner as he skated next to Backstrom, "You've done nothing wrong, just don't piss him off, okay? He can make his own decisions and so can Carlson."

"Where is he by the way?" asked Mike Green, frowning as he glanced around the rink.

The worried look in Perreault's eyes grew more intense as he realized Carlson was now a good thirty minutes late, "I…I don't know," he said, glancing away as he remembered what had happened yesterday.

Alzner noted the look on Perreault's face and glanced around at the rest of the little group. They all looked worried and grew more serious when they realized Perreault was holding something back. Even Semin stopped glomming on Mike long enough to give Perreault a concerned look.

"What happened?" asked Alzner quietly, putting a hand on Perreault's shoulder.

Perreault glanced up and swallowed nervously when he realized everyone could read him like an open book. They knew something was wrong…might as well tell them now before they find out later.

"John…John's reverting back to his…old habits," he said, staring down at the ice, "He…he's been getting wasted the past week or so…like every day. He did yesterday at two and got so drunk he couldn't get home. I had to go pick him up and take him back to his girlfriend. She's…she's not doing well either. I think…I think something's going on with them too. I don't know what his issue is but John's not okay…not at all."

Alzner put an arm around Carlson and Backstrom patted him on the shoulder in support.

"You can't blame yourself you know, right?" asked Backstrom quietly.

Perreault shook his head in protest, "No…I should have watched him closer. I've been keeping an eye on him, you know? I've kept him busy, me and Anna-Marie both have, but…but I guess we let down our guard because he's been doing so well and then…when we did…he…he went right back to the damn alcohol."

Mike looked up sharply at that and glanced at everyone in surprise. They all shared the same startled looks. Perreault and Anna-Marie had been watching Carlson? That was the reason the kid was okay for the past few weeks? Everyone had thought that Carlson had finally turned a corner in his life and had moved on from his immature partying, but clearly that wasn't the case. Clearly it was only because those who loved him had been policing him the past few weeks.

"I didn't know Carlson was that jacked up," said Mike with a shake of his head, "This is going way past what you and Anna-Marie can do, Mathieu. He needs professional help."

Perreault sneered at that, "Yeah like he'd agree to that."

"He may not have a choice here soon," said Alzner, "I'm sure once the coaches and McPhee find out about what's going on he'll be forced to…or be forced off the team."

Perreault gave Alzner a startled look, "Would they really terminate his contract?"

"Yeah," said Mike with a sigh, "They've done it for other guys on other teams before…I'm sure McPhee would do it. He hates this kind of shit."

Before Perreault could respond to that, John Carlson came bolting out of the locker room and stumbled clumsily onto the ice. He skated slowly over to Coach Boudreau and stammered out an apology. The rest of the team watched in nervous silence and Boudreau glared daggers at Carlson. He ordered Carlson to start skating laps and the young defenseman complied, his head hanging low as he skated to the edge of the rink.

Perreault noted the bloodshot eyes and shook his head in disappointment, "Damn it, John," he murmured quietly, "Damn it."

They watched Carlson struggle through his first few laps, stumbling and nearly falling several times as he tried to get his brain to focus on the task at hand. Perreault and Mike exchanged nervous looks when they saw Bad News Smitty whispering to Boudreau and casting glances in Carlson's direction.

"They know," muttered Mike, "They know…and now Carlson is screwed…"

…

Please Review!


	10. Too Far Gone

**Sorry again for the long wait…school is gonna be a little more hectic until the end of the semester so I won't update as much, but once Christmas break comes around it'll pick back up : ) Enjoy!**

"Carlson!" shouted Boudreau as he stormed into the locker room after practice.

Instantly, everyone in the locker room froze in horror. They all knew what was coming…the elephant in the locker room that they'd been dancing around for weeks on end was finally about to be addressed and it wasn't going to be pretty.

John Carlson winced and shot a panicked, pleading glance over in Perreault's direction. Mathieu grimaced as he glanced between his best friend and Boudreau. This wasn't going to end well.

"Yes sir?" asked Carlson, hesitantly.

"You care to explain to me and your teammates why you showed up fucking drunk this morning?" roared an irate Coach Boudreau.

Carlson winced again as he glanced around and saw several accusing glares from his teammates as they waited for his response, "I…I'm sorry," he muttered, "It won't happen again."

"You sure about that?" snapped Knuble, "Because I don't believe it. I believe you have yourself a very serious problem, Carlson and you need professional help. This shit has to stop…for your own good and for the good of the team."

Several heads nodded in agreement at Knuble's statements. Perreault glared at everyone in the locker room before he walked over and stood protectively next to Carlson.

"Fuck you, Knuble," he said curtly, "What John needs from his teammates is help and encouragement and all you're all doing is ganging up on him."

"Well someone's gotta tell him the truth," sneered Knuble as he took a step toward Perreault, "Because all you're doing is enabling him…hell you might as well be pouring the shit down his throat!" shouted Knuble as he got in Perreault's face.

Without warning, Marcus Johansson leapt up and shoved Knuble away from Perreault.

"Back the hell off old man," he sneered as he advanced on Knuble.

Instantly, Chimera, Erskine and Ovechkin leapt in and separated the feuding players. MoJo kept glaring at Knuble while Chimera struggled to keep him at bay. Perreault stood protectively in front of Carlson and watched as Ovechkin and Erskine pushed Knuble away from the situation. The Capitals veteran was fuming mad and cursing MoJo as the players literally pushed him out of the locker room.

"What the hell is wrong with you shitbums!" screamed Boudreau as he watched the spectacle unfold in front of him, "Fucking get your heads out of your asses! I'm sick of this shit! And you!" he shouted, whirling around on Carlson who was still hiding behind a very-scared looking Mathieu Perreault, "You…if you show up to one more game, one more practice, hell if you set foot on one goddamned ice rink drunk it will be the end of your career, do you understand me?"

Carlson cringed and nodded hurriedly, not making eye-contact with his irate coach. Boudreau sneered and let out a few more curse words as he stormed out of the locker room. Brouwer and Halpern exchanged disbelieving glances as they tried to make sense of what just happened. Alex Semin looked rather scared and hung anxiously around Ovechkin while Mike Green and Brooks Laich murmured urgently to each other on the other side of the locker room. Backstrom and Alzner just stood completely frozen in shock as they waited to see what would happen next.

"Thanks," said Perreault as he nodded to MoJo.

"I didn't do that for you," sneered MoJo, "I did it for John."

Perreault frowned a little and glanced away, but Carlson turned on MoJo, his eyes flashing with anger.

"What the hell, MoJo?" he asked, giving him a disbelieving look, "Perreault was just being nice. Don't be an ass, man, come on."

"Knock it off already, please," begged Michael Neuvirth as he walked over to them, "Seriously, you three just chill out, alright? I think we've had enough drama for the day."

MoJo shook his head and muttered something under his breath as he made a bee-line for the door and left the locker room. Perreault frowned as he watched MoJo leave.

"Sorry," he murmured to Carlson, "I didn't mean to piss him off…he's…not too fond of me lately."

Carlson sighed and rolled his eyes, "Please, he's always been like that and you know it. He's the jealous type…I'm not allowed to have any other friends but him, remember?"

Perreault smiled a little, "Yeah he hated me when I joined Hershey…but then he warmed up to me. I dunno, I guess I thought he'd outgrown that shit."

"MoJo hasn't outgrown anything," sneered Carlson, "Whatever he'll get over it. Hey, thanks for having my back…I know I fucked up again…but I appreciate what you did…means a lot."

Perreault smiled as he patted his best friend on the back, "That's what friends are for, Johnnie," he said, but inside Perreault was silently praying that this really was just another one of Carlson's episodes and not a much more serious issue. But something inside Perreault told him that there was more to it than just another episode…something deep down told him that Carlson had dug himself into one hell of a deep hole…

…

Anna-Marie was completely and totally lost. John Carlson hadn't been himself in a long time and that was an understatement. She stared out the window of the apartment they shared and waited for him to get back from practice. She bit her lower lip and fought back the tears as she remembered what had happened last night…

_John had come home completely drunk like he'd been doing for the past several weeks…months now…but tonight was different. John usually passed out and Anna-Marie would help him as much as she could, get to bed and sleep it off. But last night, John had been in an awful mood. He came home wasted and angry…beyond angry. He stormed in through the front door cursing repeatedly and throwing his stuff all over the living room. Anna-Marie ran in to see what was wrong and John whirled around on her. The second Anna-Marie saw how glassy and unfocused his eyes were she knew he was drunk again. She frowned in disappointment and gently offered to help John get to bed. Instead of agreeing like he usually did, John flipped out. He cussed her out then slapped her hard across the face, causing Anna-Marie to collapse on the floor, clutching her face in shock as John hovered over her. He sneered at her reaction and swung again, this time punching her right next to her eye. All Anna-Marie remembered was her world going black around her and then silence…complete and total silence. _

_It wasn't until that morning that Anna-Marie woke up. She rolled over in the bed she shared with John, her head pounding as she tried to figure out how she had ended up in here. Next to where John's pillow was, there was a note. She picked it up and read it, tears springing to her eyes as she remembered what had happened last night. He apologized and swore he'd never do it again. He told her he'd make it up to her later when he got home from the rink. _

Just then, John Carlson's jeep pulled into the apartment complex, jolting Anna-Marie from her reverie. She reached up and touched her eye. It was still swollen and had begun to turn colors as the day had gone on. Her heart raced anxiously as John climbed the stairs to their apartment and walked in through the front door.

John Carlson felt his heart fall to the floor when he saw Anna-Marie's face. Her eye was swollen and she looked like she was scared to death as she studied him, trying to figure out if he'd been drinking or not. In that moment John had never hated himself anymore than he did right then and there. He glanced away and dropped his stuff on the floor, taking a deep, shaky breath before he looked back up at Anna-Marie.

"Baby…I…I don't even know what to say," he said quietly, his eyes pleading silently with her to forgive him.

"You don't have to," said Anna-Marie quietly, "I…I got your note."

Carlson nodded as he reached up and put a hand to his head. The pounding headache had begun again and he felt himself shake a little. Damn it…he needed a drink. There was no way in hell he'd make it through the rest of the day without another drink…or two. He reached out and hugged Anna-Marie before he made a bee-line for the fridge. Anna-Marie felt her heart fall in disappointment as she watched Carlson pull a couple beers from the fridge. She should have known better. He wasn't going to change overnight. What the hell had she gotten herself into? She was hopelessly and completely in love with an alcoholic…an alcoholic that had punched her. She was _that_ girl…the victim.

"I…I'm gonna go watch some TV for a bit," said Carlson awkwardly as he shuffled off to their bedroom.

"Okay, sweetheart," said Anna-Marie, forcing a smile and pretending to be okay as Carlson left the room.

Just then the doorbell rang. Anna-Marie cursed as she walked toward the door. The last thing she needed was for one of her friends to see her face like this.

Mathieu Perreault gasped in shock as Anna-Marie answered the door, "Anna…what…what the hell happened?"

"Shh!" hissed Anna-Marie as she slipped outside and closed the door behind her, "It's nothing, Mathieu, alright? Don't worry about it."

"Oh my god," muttered Perreault as she shook his head in disbelief, his eyes wide with horror as he realized what his best friend had done, "Oh my god…he did this to you. John…John _hit_ you!"

"Mathieu!" hissed Anna-Marie desperately, "Please don't do this, okay? You'll make it worse."

"Has he done this before?" demanded Perreault, "Has he ever hit you like this? Anna-Marie, oh my god…oh my god I can't let this keep going on anymore! I swear to God I've done all I can, but I can't cover this shit up, not if he's hurting you like this."

"Mathieu, its fine," insisted Anna-Marie, glancing anxiously back at the door, "Look, I gotta go okay? John's watching TV in the bedroom…I'm gonna go check on him. Did you need anything?"

Perreault shook his head slowly, "Uh…no…I just…wanted to make sure he was okay after…um…after practice today."

Anna-Marie closed her eyes for a moment, "He was hung over wasn't he?"

Perreault nodded, "Yeah…again."

Anna-Marie felt the tears spring to her eyes again. John Carlson was digging himself into a very, very deep hole and she knew it…she just wished she could go on ignoring it and pretending that things were okay like they used to be.

"Look, Anna-Marie," said Perreault after a moment, "I know you love him…I do too…hell he's my best friend! But, we can't keep covering for him…not anymore. It's getting worse, clearly. He needs professional help."

"Like he'd ever agree to that," sneered Anna-Marie, "Its fine, Mathieu, really."

"No it's not!" hissed Mathieu, growing frustrated with Carlson's girlfriend, "It's not anywhere close to being okay. Look, I've got an idea to get him into rehab…but you're going to have to help me. And…you're going to have to be willing to do something I know you're not going to want to do…not at all. But, Anna-Marie, if you love him, you will do it. Okay?"

Anna-Marie frowned at that, "What do you need me to do?"

Perreault sighed, "Um, look, my guess is John's gonna get hammered again tonight so meet me early tomorrow morning at the Barnes and Noble…we'll grab coffee and talk, alright?"

Anna-Marie nodded, "Okay…I'll be there, now go, Mathieu…before he comes looking for me."

Perreault frowned at that, "Fine…but if you really do love him, Anna-Marie…you'll be there tomorrow morning and you'll do what I say, alright?"

Anna-Marie nodded and turned away from Perreault, not wanting him to see the tears that were stinging her eyes once again. She was terrified…because she knew deep down what Perreault would probably ask of her…and she wasn't sure she could go through with it…

…

Please Review!


	11. Authors Note and New Story Plot

**Hey everyone! Sorry I haven't been writing…things have been crazy with school and now finals week is coming up soon so I won't get back to writing until Christmas break I'm afraid : (**

**But good news! I have a plot lined up for the next story after I finish this one! And to make up for my lack of writing I'll share some of it with you guys! Just a little something to look forward to over Christmas…**

_Elizabeth Marcellus has made her way into the NHL. After getting kicked off of her college team for (literally) being too good, she fiercely pursued getting into the National Hockey League. The Washington Capitals picked her up about a quarter of the way into their season and Elizabeth soon found her niche in the world. She became fast friends with the younger players on the team: John Carlson, Marcus Johansson, and Mathieu Perreault. The four friends soon become inseparable and form a unique clique. However, the playoffs don't go as planned and the Capitals are blanked by the Tampa Bay Lightning. Sad and disheartened, the four best friends decide to take a couple weeks off and away from DC to clear their heads before their off-season really begins. Their destination? Tampa Bay, Florida. The friends hit the beach and goof off, having a great time, but soon long to be on the ice for a bit, even just for fun. They run into a certain handsome, young Tampa Bay Lightning player who invites them to the rink for a fun skate for the afternoon. It isn't long after that that Elizabeth finds herself rather attracted to this certain hockey player from the team that just blanked her own Capitals. Tensions mount as the two grow closer together and the four best friends end up extending their stay in Tampa. Although they do not approve of Elizabeth's choice, MoJo and Perreault are happy that she's happy…Carlson on the other hand is anything BUT happy. As he begins to unravel exactly why it is that this hockey player fawning over Elizabeth bothers him so much, he begins to wonder if he's lost something that would have meant more to him than his own life. Never really caring that much for anyone but himself, this new realization throws Carlson for a loop and he struggles to tell Elizabeth how he feels all amidst watching the Tampa player woo her. Is it too late for Carlson? Has Elizabeth found her true love? Will this romance split up the friendship that the four have forged so tightly? _

_Romance, adventure, jealousy and conquest all in one : )_

_The story will be titled "Just a Kiss" after the song by Lady Antebellum_

_I will start working on this one over Christmas right after I finish this current story! _

_Till next time!_

_Mahone_chic _


	12. Ultimatum

**Hey everyone! Sorry for the long wait. I'm going to go ahead and finish up this story so I can get started on that other one I told you all about : ) I'm very excited to write that one! Enjoy!**

Perreault tapped his foot anxiously on the concrete as he sipped on his coffee, waiting for Anna-Marie to show up. He wanted to meet with her to discuss the issues with John Carlson. They hadn't been able to talk much yesterday since Carlson was around, but Perreault banked on the fact that Carlson got wasted every night and would probably be too hung-over to notice Anna-Marie was missing for a couple hours this morning.

Perreault glanced up when he saw Anna-Marie's car pull into the parking lot. He swallowed nervously and straightened up a little in his seat. He knew she wasn't going to like his idea to get Carlson into rehab…but it might be the only shot they had left. Anna-Marie climbed out of the car and glanced over at Perreault, her eyes troubled and a frown creasing the features of her face as she tried to predict whatever it was Perreault had up his sleeve.

"Alright, Mathieu, what is it?" asked Anna-Marie as she settled down across from him at the table outside Starbucks.

"Don't you want a coffee or something…?"

"No," snapped Anna-Marie, her eyes flashing, "Look whatever it is you have to say is gonna upset me I already know it so let's just get it over with okay?"

Perreault glanced away nervously and cleared his throat, "Um…okay, yeah sure. Look…I know you love him, I get that and I appreciate it. Quite frankly he needs someone like you in his life, okay? But…the thing is…you could be what causes him to stop this drinking shit."

Anna-Marie narrowed her eyes at Perreault, "I don't like where this is going, Mathieu."

"Look," snapped Perreault, suddenly growing irritated with Carlson's girlfriend, "If you want to help him, if you want to make this shit stop then you'll at least hear me out, got it?"

Anna-Marie looked taken aback by Perreault's sudden change of attitude and grew very still as she waited for him to continue.

"Alright," said Perreault, forcing himself to stay calm. "You aren't gonna like this but deal with it. If you love him you'll do it. The only way on God's earth Carlson would give him his little hobbies would be if you…threatened or actually did leave him."

"Hell no," seethed Anna-Marie.

"Easy," said Perreault, rolling his eyes at Anna-Marie's reaction, "I know, I know you love him you never wanna leave him, blah blah blah, I know! But think about it. If you told him you can't be with someone who drinks like this or hits you when he's drunk, maybe he'd take it a little more seriously. Tell him he needs to get professional help and fix this problem if he wants to stay with you."

Anna-Marie grew very quiet as she glanced away from Perreault, biting her lower lip as she fought with herself internally. How the hell could she let John go? She couldn't do that to him! She loved him! But…did she love him enough to let him go?

"Just…think about it alright?" asked Perreault as he stood up to leave, "I know I've probably pissed you off but…jus think it over. He loves you more than anything and anyone in the world…he'd do anything for you…that's why I think this is our best shot at getting our old John back. Just…think about it."

Perreault sighed wearily as he walked away and headed toward his car, leaving Anna-Marie alone outside Starbucks contemplating what she should do next…

…

Carlson woke up groggy and with a pounding headache. He groaned as the morning light streamed in through his blinds, increasing the intensity of the pounding in his head. He mentally cursed himself for getting wasted again. It always felt good at the moment but he regretted it every morning. He glanced over and saw that Anna-Marie wasn't in bed next to him like she usually was every morning…waiting to take care of him after he trashed himself the night before. A pang in his heart made Carlson feel incredibly guilty. That poor woman…damn she shouldn't have to wait around to take care of him all the time.

Just then he heard the apartment door open. He stood up unsteadily from the bed and made his way toward the small kitchen. He blinked in surprise when he saw Anna-Marie with her head in her hands, leaning on the counter.

"Anna-Marie?" he asked in a rough, ragged voice, "Baby you alright?"

Anna-Marie looked up quickly and wiped away a tear, "Um…no, no not really."

Carlson felt his heart skip a beat. He hadn't seen her like this before. That look in her eyes made his heart race with panic. He could almost predict what was about to happen next.

"What…what's wrong?"

Anna-Marie gave a sad little laugh, "Everything is wrong, John…everything. I can't…I can't do this anymore."

Carlson froze as he waited for her to collect herself and continue. His heart sank in his chest as he waited to hear the words he prayed he'd never have to hear.

"I just…I can't be with you when…you're like this," said Anna-Marie, not making eye-contact with John, "You need help…and until you go get that help and get better…we can't…we can't be together. Not like this. I…I'm going to get my things and leave. I'll go back to my place for awhile."

Carlson felt his throat constrict in pain as he watched Anna-Marie fumble around the apartment, throwing her things into a duffel bag while wiping tears from her eyes…tears that he had caused.

"Can…can I come visit?" he asked quietly after several, agonizingly long minutes.

"No," said Anna-Marie firmly, "No…John. You…you and I cannot be together at all. Not…not until you fix this."

John felt as if someone had just stabbed him right in the chest. He watched helplessly as Anna-Marie finished packing and made a bee-line for the door.

"There's nothing…nothing I can do to make you stay?" he choked out, his voice full of desperation.

Anna-Marie felt her heart being ripped in two as she stared back into John's eyes. She wanted so badly to give in and stay…but she remembered what Perreault had said and knew he was right. This was the only way.

"No…John…I'm sorry," she whispered as she turned and opened the door, ran down the two flights of stairs and jumped in her car, never looking back…

…

"Damn, John looks awful today," muttered Erskine as he glanced over to see Carlson slowly enter the locker room.

"Yeah and he's on time," muttered Knuble, "What the hell's with that, eh?"

Perreault turned around when he heard his teammates talking about Carlson and glanced at his best friend. His eyes were red and swollen and it looked like he'd been crying. He also looked incredibly hung-over…nothing new on that front at least.

"What's up?" asked Mathieu as Carlson threw his bag on the ground, "You okay?"

"No," said Carlson curtly, "I'm not…Anna-Marie left me this morning."

Perreault raised an eyebrow at that. Wow…the girl had actually gone through with it. He was rather impressed. He didn't think Anna-Marie had the guts to do it. Interesting.

"Oh? Johnnie I'm sorry man…what'd she say?" prompted Perreault.

"That I need to fix myself and my…problem," said Carlson with a sigh.

"And…are you going to?" asked Perreault as he glanced over at Marcus Johansson who was listening intently to their conversation.

"Don't have much of a choice do I?" retorted Carlson, "I love her…I want her…and the only way I can have her is if I figure out my life and get this fixed."

MoJo tried to hide a victorious smile as he glanced happily over at Perreault. Perreault literally had to bite his lip to keep from smiling.

"So…you're gonna go get help then? Like rehab or something?" asked Perreault after a moment.

"Yeah…Coach is gonna help me sign up for it and everything," said Carlson glancing between MoJo and Perreault, "Did I miss something?"

"What? Oh, no…nope nothing," said MoJo quickly as he laced up his skates, "I'm just, uh, gonna go hit the ice for a bit before practice."

Carlson raised an eyebrow at MoJo as he left the locker room, "That kid is so weird sometimes."

Perreault laughed at that, "Yeah…yeah he is. Come on John, let's kick some ass at practice and then get you to that rehab place so you can get your girl back."

Carlson sighed wearily, "God its gonna be a long few weeks…"

…

Please Review!


	13. Epilogue: Coming Home

**Epilogue: **

"Do you think she'll still want me?" asked John as he nervously checked himself in Perreault's mirror for the tenth time that morning.

Mathieu Perreault rolled his eyes at his best friend, "Yes I'm sure she'll still want you, John."

"But it's been so long…what if she found someone else? What if she's moved on? Aw shit, Mattie I can't handle that!"

"Easy, easy," said Perreault with an amused grin on his face, "I'm sure she hasn't moved on, John…and it's only been two months AND she talked to me and MoJo and we can both assure you she still wants you."

MoJo muttered something under his breath about Carlson being as dramatic as a woman as he lounged on Perreault's bed, waiting for John to finish getting ready to go see Anna-Marie.

"There, see you look perfect," assured Perreault as he grabbed John's shoulders and directed him away from the mirror, "She loved you when you had dark circles under your eyes and looked like shit so I'm sure she'll love you looking well-rested and healthy again."

Carlson faked a punch to Perreault's face and the two friends started play-fighting in the middle of the room.

"Careful you'll mess up the princess' hair!" joked MoJo as he dragged himself off Perreault's bed, "Come on children…can we go now?"

"Fuck you MoJo," said Carlson as he took a swing at Marcus' head, "Alright, yeah let's get outta here before I start throwing up in the toilet from nerves rather than booze."

"God you really are dramatic," muttered Perreault as he led his best friends out of his apartment and down to the parking lot.

…

Carlson paced anxiously outside the Kettler Iceplex, waiting for Anna-Marie to arrive. Meanwhile, Perreault, MoJo, Mike Green and Brooks Laich had gathered on the second floor of Kettler and were peering out the glass, waiting to see the reunion themselves.

"Careful!" hissed Perreault as Mike Green pressed his face to the glass, "If Carlson looks up here and sees us we're all gonna die! Especially me, so…Green! What the hell?"

Mike Green had climbed onto the railing and had his face pressed up against the glass to get a better view of the scene below them, "I'm just trying to get the best angle, alright? Chill Mattie P!"

"I swear to God I'll kill him, Brooks," said Perreault, giving Mike Green's best friend a stern glare.

Brooks just shrugged, "There's no stopping Mike once he's got his mind on something. He's like a freaking child…he's got tunnel vision and he loves drama."

Perreault shook his head and muttered something under his breath just as Anna-Marie's car pulled into the Kettler Iceplex parking lot.

"Oh, shit! Mike GET THE HELL DOWN NOW!" said Perreault as he tugged at Mike's leg.

Mike gave Perreault an annoyed look as he climbed down from the railing, "Fine!" he hissed as he crossed his arms and pouted.

Meanwhile, down below, John Carlson felt like he was going to have a heart attack. His heart pounded furiously in his chest as he watched Anna-Marie park the car and climb out. The second she made eye-contact, everything inside John Carlson just fell apart. She walked over to him, slowly, hesitantly, making John ache to hold her and reassure her even more.

"Anna-Marie," he breathed, "I…I…"

Anna-Marie shook her head, too-overwhelmed with emotion to speak as she reached out and let John take her into his arms. No other words were necessary. They stood there and held on to each other like their very lives depended on it, both crying and laughing at the same time.

On the second floor of the Kettler Iceplex, Mike Green wiped a tear from his own eye while Brooks patted him on the back. MoJo let out a little shout of excitement and raced down to the locker room to tell the rest of the team what had just happened. Mathieu Perreault stood quietly, watching his best friend hold onto the woman he loved more than anything else. He felt his heart swell with happiness for John and knew in that moment that the old John Carlson, "Captain America," was back…and he was back to stay.

…

THE END

Please Review!

I hope to start working on the other story either tonight or sometime Sunday : )


End file.
